


you are the light

by buvkissteves



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Domestic Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, all triggers will be specified if need be at the start of each chapter, also steve gives everything to bucky, everything in every way you could think, its what they DESERVE, they just want to be happy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-29
Updated: 2018-06-30
Packaged: 2019-04-29 18:56:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 24,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14479053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/buvkissteves/pseuds/buvkissteves
Summary: Bucky let out an inhuman noise, throwing the rope across the room, looking down at Steve angrily. “Shut up!” he yelled. “Stop talking, stop telling me things, just stop! I didn’t…I didn’t ask you to…”“To what Buck?” Steve snapped back, standing up. “To what? To come here? Because you did. You asked me to come. Actually, you took me. Why did you take me? Why did you pull me out of the river?”Bucky was glaring at him, his eyes filled with tears the same way they were on the aircraft. “I don’t know.”“Yes you do!”Bucky let out a whine, a tortured yell and pushed Steve up against the wall, breathing heavily. “Shut. Up.” He snarled, breathing heavily.***an alternate ending to winter solider, before everything that comes after. bucky steals steve from the hospital he was staying at and brings him back to romania so he can come back to himself, hopefully, with the person he loves.





	1. the hospital

When Steve opened his eyes, he almost had a heart attack.

He was still in the hospital, recovering was taking a little longer than normal—Bucky had beaten him good. But more than that, Steve needed the help given to him that was beyond his body. Sam had set him up, a therapist, someone to talk him through the event that he had just gone through. The bullets were long gone, and though his wounds have healed, the soreness of his body and the physical and mental hurt remained.

The reason, however, for his newfound fear—pain—sadness, was because upon opening his eyes he saw that he was not alone in his room. It wasn’t Sam Wilson who was there either, who was a good friend, one that hadn’t left his side. In the seat, half shadowed in the darkness, only illuminated partially from the moonlight and street lights coming in from the window, was Bucky Barnes.

He looked as deadly as ever, even though he looked like he had changed clothes. He was wearing a red shirt, with a hood over it, and a cap over his eyes. He looked less like an assassin and more just like…well, like Bucky. But not in his eyes. They weren’t quite as dark and empty as they had been when he was locked in, but he didn’t look like the Bucky that Steve had known and loved his entire life.

“Hiya Buck,” Steve threw him a grin, wincing as he tried to turn. He couldn’t help it, he wanted to be so close to him. It was second nature to move towards him, even though he was in pain. “Did anyone see you get in? I don’t want you getting caught.”

Bucky stared at him, with a voice that was not his own he responded, “They won’t catch me. They never do.”

“Until they actually do.” Steve warned him. “You gotta go Buck.”

“You…” Bucky closed his eyes and inhaled. “You said my name was Bucky.”

Steve smiled gently. “Right,” he wanted to pull him close. “Buck was just something else I called you too.”

Bucky stared at his knees, his hand moving and slipping out a knife, twirling it around in his hand as though it was an anchor. Once upon a time, that was what Steve had done for Bucky, and it made him sad to know that he needed a weapon to keep himself sane now. “You keep talking about me like you know me.” He lifted his gaze.

“I do Buck,” Steve whispered.

“I read about you.” Bucky whispered, and he closed his eyes, trying to understand something about his own mind. Steve wanted so badly to get rid of this distance between them, but he was unable to do a damn thing. “I need…”

“What?”

Bucky stared at him, eyes hopeful and wanting and desperate and in pain. “Come with me.”

Steve didn’t know what that meant, where he would go. It didn’t matter that he was hooked up to these IVS, recovering. Steve already had his answer. “Okay pal.”

 

* * *

 

As it turned out, it was not one of Steve’s best ideas.

He didn’t want to know how it happened, how Bucky had managed to get a pilot jet, how he had managed to get them to DC to Bucharest, Romania. He didn’t want to know because he was afraid of knowing, and because he had missed so much of it. He was still recovering, coming in and out of sleep, being dragged around by Bucky, who wasn’t doing much to make him more comfortable. Steve was hungry and tired, and save for a water bottle and a granola bar that Bucky had thrown at him, he hadn’t had more than that.

Worse yet, was that Bucky clearly didn’t trust Steve. He was struggling still, to remember him. Kept looking over at him during their travels, the few times that Steve was awake to see it. From the moment Bucky had stolen Steve from the hospital, he had handcuffed his hands together. Where he got those, Steve didn’t want to know either. He knew he could break free of them, and Bucky seemed to know that too, but the handcuffs seemed to be more about trust rather than restraint.

So, Steve didn’t fight it.

Bucky’s apartment was nothing to brag about. There was barely any light, and it was run down as could be. Steve was sure that Bucky had money, he had to have it, being alive all this time, whether HYDRA funded him, or he stole it—he was even sure he had enough to get them away from this kind of small apartment, but likely, this run down place was more secure for him. There were newspapers all along the windows, no bed, just two mattresses stacked on top of one another, and a brown couch. There was no television, but some books scattered around. Nothing to say this place belonged to Bucky Barnes.

Well, except one thing.

On the mattress there were piles and piles of pillows and blankets. A mountain of them. Steve had to smile, he couldn’t not, when he saw that, because that was from the before. That was when Steve was small and sick and would need Bucky and comfort and warmth. And Bucky would wrap him up in all those blankets, and have them surrounded by pillows and would curl behind him and wait for him to sleep.

Steve sighed and sat on the couch, wincing. He was mostly healed now—but he was so tired. “Bucky, can I take a shower?”

Bucky took off his cap and his jacket, and walked over to Steve. His hands grabbed Steve and hauled him up, looking down at the handcuffs. “You’ll run,” he said—but his voice shook. Steve wondered if Bucky was accusing him, or voicing a fear.

“I won’t,” Steve promised.

Bucky shook his head. “I don’t…no.”

“Bucky, please.” He sighed when the light was gone from Bucky’s eyes. He needed a shower, a bad one, and sleep and food and _God—_ “Alright,” he said slowly, desperate for Bucky to trust him. “How about you wash me, hm? You can keep the cuffs on that way, okay?”

Completely disregarding what Steve just said to him, Bucky looked into his eyes, hollow and gone and sad. “Your friends are going to come for you.” His hands were moving along Steve’s wrists, touching the metal that bound him. “They’ll take you.”

“You’re my friend.” Steve said, trying not to snap. “I won’t go with them.”

Bucky’s eyes narrowed, and one of his hands clasped around Steve’s neck, but it was a lot less threatening than Bucky might have intended. He wasn’t squeezing, but it was a reminder to Steve, so Bucky could establish who was in power. “Don’t lie to me.”

“I’m not.” Steve breathed. “I promise.”

Bucky seemed to struggle with himself, torn between wanting to believe Steve and not trusting him. The last time he had seen Bucky, he had remembered being pulled out of the water, vaguely—they had stopped fighting on the aircraft. There had been a moment, a moment where Bucky had stopped fighting, looking at Steve with a moment of clarity. But maybe Steve was romanticizing him again, like he had always done.

“Where’s your phone?” Bucky asked.

“My pocket.”

Bucky didn’t wait for permission, he dipped inside Steve’s pocket quickly and grabbed it. “Tony, Natasha or Sam?” he asked.

“For what, Buck?”

“You will tell them you’re okay. So, they don’t come for you.”

“Okay.” Steve sighed, bringing up his hands and asking for the phone, but Bucky shook his head. “You should tell Tony, probably. He’ll let the others know.”

“What do you want me to type?” he asked, looking down at the phone. His eyelashes were so long.

“Tell him that I’m looking for you. I’ll come home when I’m ready.” He sighed, shrugging, watching Bucky type away, then snapping the phone shut and throwing it on the couch. They met gazes, and Steve sighed. “Please Buck,” and Steve didn’t even know what he was asking for anymore.

Bucky’s shaking, untrusting hands landed on Steve’s wrists again. “Don’t leave.” He demanded.

Steve nodded. “I would never.”

Bucky shook his head, closing his eyes. “I’m…I want to believe you but…” he shook his head. “I can’t remember…”

“We’ll get there. I swear. Okay? C’mon Buck, take these off.” Steve urged him.

Bucky held his gaze for another moment before he swallowed, and with an easy tug, broke the handcuffs apart. Steve swallowed as he watched Bucky’s muscles flex as they came apart. Steve sighed in release, pressing his thumb against the red line the cuffs have left him, massaging it. “You can shower now.” Bucky said. “You have three minutes.”

Steve grinned. “Including or after I get naked?”

Bucky gave him _a look_ and Steve almost grinned because it was _almost_ so close to those little snarky looks Bucky used to give to him. “Including.” Bucky told him. “Go. I’ll make you some food.”

“You should eat too.”

Bucky dismissed him. “Go shower.”

 

* * *

 

The remaining hours of the evening were quiet. Steve showered, and counted in his head up to three minutes, making sure to stick to Bucky’s time. He didn’t want to break the trust, not when everything was so very fragile as it was. He could see it in Bucky’s eyes, how hard he was trying to be present and not slip to that unpleasant place that he was when he was with HYDRA. It had only been a few days since their fight, but Steve had broken something in Bucky’s mind.

He knew why. That’s what love did to people.

They ate in silence for the most part, Steve only speaking when he decided to let Bucky know that he could transfer money to Bucky’s account, but Bucky shook his head. That was it for dinner. They ate quite a bit, their super soldier bodies requiring the nourishment, Steve inhaling the water that Bucky had set for him. Hours passed slowly, Bucky in his journal, writing things, reading things, looking at photos. As Steve walked around the apartment, tidying up, he caught a glimpse of the journal, and there was a photo of him in it.

Steve smiled, at that.

Steve knew it was time for bed when Bucky shot a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt at him. They both stared at the mattress on the ground, and Steve offered quietly, “I can take the couch.”

Bucky looked at him. “You’re a little big.”

“You’d know, pal,” Steve let slip, and Bucky actually _grinned,_ and Steve felt _elated._

Bucky threw his hand over at the bed. “S’fine,” he shook his head, his grin disappearing, as though he was uncomfortable with himself for having that moment of joy to himself. “I just…” he shook his head.

Steve smiled sadly. “Do you want to tie me up?” When Bucky didn’t answer, Steve murmured, “What can I do to convince you I won’t leave?”

Bucky shook his head again, pressing his hands to his eyes, growing angry. “Shut up.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Stop it.”

“Stop what?”

“Being so…nice.” He snapped, looking at him. “You’re my prisoner.”

Steve shrugged and looked around at the apartment. “I don’t feel like one.”

“Obviously.” Bucky muttered. “Lay down.” He ordered. Steve did as he was told, watching Bucky move around the apartment. He rummaged through his things, grabbing rope when he found it, looking at it.

Steve shook his head, sitting up and put his arms around his knees. “Bucky, you’ll hurt me with that.”

Bucky let out an inhuman noise, throwing the rope across the room, looking down at Steve angrily. “Shut up!” he yelled. “Stop talking, stop telling me things, just stop! I didn’t…I didn’t ask you to…”

“To what Buck?” Steve snapped back, standing up. “To what? To come here? Because you did. You asked me to come. Actually, you took me. Why did you take me? Why did you pull me out of the river?”

Bucky was glaring at him, his eyes filled with tears the same way they were on the aircraft. “I don’t know.”

“Yes you do!”

Bucky let out a whine, a tortured yell and pushed Steve up against the wall, breathing heavily. “Shut. Up.” He snarled, breathing heavily. But Steve was overwhelmed, from the closeness, from the way Bucky was so close to being his again. Steve wanted to touch him so badly, but he knew that if he did, right now, it might backfire.

“Buck,” Steve whispered.

Bucky shut his eyes. “Please.” He whispered back. “Please.”

“What do you need Bucky? Just tell me.”

“I need you to sleep.” Bucky whispered, his eyes going back to that place, becoming dark in the way that Steve hated. “If you leave, I’ll find you and kill you.” His voice was deadpan, apathetic, and when Steve nodded he felt his heart drop to his chest. Bucky watched him get on the bed, curling up amongst the blankets and pillows. Bucky flipped the switch, the apartment dark and intimate, and crawled into bed alongside Steve. Steve felt his tension radiating off him.

Steve sighed. “Goodnight Buck.”

Bucky didn’t answer, but he felt Bucky’s finger touch his hand, and it was enough to soothe him to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope you all liked the beginning of this chapter! please drop me a comment if you did :D


	2. remember me

Steve woke up because he was being choked.

His eyes snapped open and his hands clamped down on the metal arm that was around his throat. Bucky was staring down at him, his eyes completely gone. They were dark, dead, not the warm eyes that Steve had grown to know and love so much. This was the Winter Soldier, not Bucky Barnes. This was the asset, not his best friend. Not the love of his life.

“Bucky,” Steve gasped, doing the only thing he could think. He brought his hand up to Bucky’s face, and took a chance. He touched him, his thumb grazing Bucky’s bottom lip. “Buck, it’s me. It’s-It’s Steve. Your Ste-vie. W-wherever you are, c-come back.”

Like magic, like that time on the bridge, on the hellicarrier, he watched like magic how Bucky’s eyes went from that darkness to something light—not quite cheerful, never anything like that, but someone Steve recognized. The metal hand slowly loosened its grip, and Bucky seemed to have been holding his breath because when he let Steve go, he was panting.

“Steve?” he asked, looking shaken.

Steve massaged his throat, sitting up in bed and reaching for Bucky. “Hey, it’s okay, it’s me.” He reached for Bucky, but Bucky’s hand whipped out and slapped itself on Steve’s chest.

“Don’t touch me.” He growled. “Don’t you have any kind of fucking self-preservation instinct?” he glared at Steve, but all Steve could see was his friend. His friend who had stopped hurting him, just because he had asked him. “Next time I do that, you fight back.” He ordered.

Steve, who was never too good at following orders, said, “I’m not fighting you Bucky.”

“Every time you fucking say that, you get hurt.”

“Every time I say that, you stop hurting me.”

Bucky glared him. “Enough,” he snapped. “I’m not playing this game.”

“I’m not playing any games.” Steve’s hand came down from his throat. He was a quick healer. “I’m here with you _because_ I’m not playing any games.”

Bucky shook his head, running both of his hands through his hair, keeping it away from his face. He shook his head, getting up from the bed and walking around the apartment. “You’re such a little shit, you know that?”

“I’ve been told,” Steve watched him walk around the apartment angrily. He couldn’t help it. He couldn’t stop looking at him and drinking him in. This was something that he was holding so close to him, but carefully. It was fragile, delicate. It was two people, one person who knew who he was and what he was doing, and another who was desperately trying to piece his life together with fractured memories based off a man he hadn’t seen in seventy years.

“Oh?” Bucky continued to grumble, undressing without a care in the world—not acknowledging what it did to Steve’s heart. Bucky was _commando_ no less, but he got undressed and dressed again quickly, pulling his hair back and tying it up haphazardly. “So you piss off everyone is that it?”

“No,” Steve said, his eyes running over the muscles of Bucky’s body, even dressed. How _close_ they had been all night. Steve hadn’t slept that well since he had gotten out of the ice; the feeling of having the person he loved next to him kept him asleep. “But you had a long list of colorful names for me.”

“Maybe I’ll start using them again.” He mumbled, looking in the fridge. “Wanna fill me in on what they were?”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

Bucky snorted loudly, slamming the fridge shut, balancing some eggs in his hand and some carefully wrapped sausage in the other. “This isn’t supposed to be fun.”

“You’re not making me feel very threatened.”

Bucky’s eyes glanced over at him, violent and aggressive. “I almost just killed you.”

Steve quieted, watching Bucky go back to his work, assembling their breakfast. Steve sighed, feeling terrible, getting up and stretching his body. He gathered some of Bucky’s clothes and went to the bathroom, washing his face and brushing his teeth quickly before he got dressed. As he came out, he began to clean up the apartment as best he could while Bucky cooked, setting the table for the two of them. When that was done, still careful not to talk, he went over to his phone.

There were a number of messages.

_Sam: Dude, I went to the hospital and you ain’t there! I messaged your girl Nat and she told me you’re looking for the same dude that put you there in the first place? What the hell?_

_Nat: I trust you. But if you need me, you message me._

_Tony: Don’t be an idiot. Come home._

_Tony: I will literally come find you myself._

_Tony: Nat punished me and said I’m not allowed to do that._

_Tony: We’re going to discuss this when you get home young man_

Steve smiled softly, but put down his phone. He did not have the energy to answer them just yet, nor did he think he wanted to. He wanted to enjoy this strange limbo he was in with Bucky, even though it was messy and fragile.

“Your friends miss you,” Bucky muttered, bringing plates to the table.

Steve shrugged. “They can get by without me for a bit. You read my messages?”

Bucky didn’t look like he was sorry. “I had to make sure no one was coming.”

“What would you do if they did?” he asked seriously, sitting down by him at the table. He smiled gently at Bucky as he poured coffee for Steve.

“Whatever I have to,” Bucky muttered. “You’re mine.”

Steve didn’t quite know how Bucky meant it...if he meant a prisoner, a lover, a hostage. He supposed all of them were true in their own ways, but really, Steve wouldn’t have argued anyhow. He was Bucky’s. Bucky was his and he belonged to Bucky. There was no one before, and no one after. Everything was centered around Bucky Barnes.

“I don’t want you to hurt my friends.” He said clearly. “I’ll stay with you, but you can’t hurt them.”

“Are you staying because…” Bucky trailed off, apparently confusing himself with whatever it was he wanted to say. Steve figured Bucky was confused, naturally, about whether or not Steve was staying because Bucky had forced it (which he didn't), to keep his friends safe (which Steve wasn't worried about), or for himself (which he was). 

“I want to be here with you Bucky.” Steve was clear.

Bucky didn’t say anything but he looked a lot less stressed when Steve told him that, which was more than enough to put Steve at ease. For a while, they didn’t talk. They just ate, which Steve was okay with. He and Bucky, even back in the day, had never been two people who had to fill their silences with useless conversation. If they wanted to be silent, then they were, and if they wanted to talk, they did that too. There was never any moment where one felt awkward with the other. Everything was so easy. Even now, after all this time, at least for Steve, this felt so natural. Moreso than anything he had done since they had unfrozen him. He loved his friends, the Avengers, very much, but not like he loved Bucky.

When they were done eating, that’s when Steve chose that moment to ask, “What did you dream about?”

Bucky’s eyes darkened. “Same thing I always dream about.” He stared down at his metal hand that was holding his coffee mug. “The people I’ve killed with this hand.” His eyes glanced up at Steve. “You should be afraid of me.”

“I’ve never been afraid of someone just because they’re bigger or stronger than me.”

“Yes, you have shitty self-preservation skills, we’ve established that already.”

“Only when it comes to you.” Steve murmured. Bucky’s eyes flashed and he yelled, grabbing his mug and throwing it against the wall. “Buck—”

“You want to know the things I dream about?” Bucky snarled, his human hand becoming a fist. “Besides the death? Besides all the shit I’ve done with this hand?” he asked, his eyes swimming with tears, but he was far too proud to let himself actually cry in front of Steve just yet. “I dream about falling. I see your fucking face on some kind of train. And there’s so much pain, all the time in the dreams. And they take _you_ away from me, every time. They take you away from my brain. And I wake up _every time_ and it’s all _real._ It’s just reliving the same shit that has already happened to me.” He finished, breathing heavily as he looked at Steve, challenging him to say something. “Happy?” he spat.

Steve felt his heart break inside of him, reaching out and touching Bucky’s fingers. Bucky flinched but he did not move his hand, but his eyes did dart down to where their skin connected. “I’d never be happy about anything that put you in pain Bucky.”

“You…” Steve watched Bucky swallow. “You put me in pain.” He admitted.

Steve took his hand away. “I’m sorry Bucky. I would never want to do that.” But he couldn’t disagree, he knew it was true. He knew it was true because they had done that to each other—hurt each other physically, yes, but more than that, each of them falling away from the other was what caused the other pain. Being apart, death, fighting each other when they didn’t want to. That was more painful than any bruise or broken rib.

Bucky shook his head. “I know. I think that’s why it’s worse. You’re so nice all the time, and it hurts because I can’t remember.”

“But you remember some of it?” Steve asked hopefully.

“Some. A little bit more, day by day.” Bucky admitted, nodding his head.

“We’ll get there.” Steve promised him.

“How do you know?” Bucky asked seriously, looking at him with wide, hopeful eyes.

“Faith,”

Bucky snorted again, but this was light, not as violent as before. “In me?”

“In us.” Steve corrected him softly. “You and I are just going to take one day at a time.”

Bucky stared at him. “Are you that willing to give me whatever I want?”

“I’ve always been willing to do that for you Bucky. There’s nothing new about that.”

“You are so willing,” Bucky whispered. “To die for me, to live for me, to give yourself to me.” He shook his head. “I don’t understand you.”

“You will,” Steve murmured. “You were like this too, once.”

Bucky nodded. “I want…I would like to get there again,” he swallowed.

Steve smiled, feeling his heart swell with the possibility of that _something more._ Something that could be his again. “Do you want to try something?” he asked hopefully.

Bucky glared at him. “What?”

“Just come here,” Steve grinned, happily, playfully, and Bucky even grinned a little and _Jesus_ if that didn’t set Steve’s heart on fire. Bucky brought his chair closer to Steve’s so their knees bumped. Steve loved it, the point of contact, the way he was able to feel so fun and joyful just from their knees touching.

“What now?” Bucky asked, his eyes going from Steve’s eyes to his lips to their knees and back up again.

“Can I touch you?”

Bucky tensed, his lips pursing, but he nodded. Steve nodded back, moving forward and placing his hands gently on Bucky’s legs. Not quite his thighs, and not his knees, somewhere between, and squeezed him softly. Bucky rolled his eyes, but playfully, and Steve continued to grin. Then he leaned forward.

Bucky stopped grinning. “No.”

Steve was careful with his words. “I’m not going to kiss you. I promise. You trust me?”

Bucky swallowed slowly. “I want to.” He admitted.

“I won’t kiss you.” He whispered. “Just…” and he leaned forward, and gently pressed his forehead against Bucky’s. 

That was all. They stayed like that for an immeasurable amount of time--Steve didn't need to know how much time, didn't  _want_ to know how much time. All it was, was this moment. Their foreheads touching, each of them with their eyes closed. Bucky tense under Steve's hands, Steve feeling Bucky's breath hit his lips. They were unsteady at first, but the longer they stayed like that, the steadier his breath became, and his muscles relaxing with it. His hands tentatively came up and settled on Steve's, who remained perfectly still so as not to scare Bucky off. This was something delicate, a bird with fractured wings learning to fly. Steve would treat it as such. He so desperately wanted to close this little distance between him, but there were some things that he knew were not up to him. Things that would have to be Bucky's, and Bucky's alone. But Steve could wait. He could wait forever. That was why he was here, after all. To help, to wait, to love Bucky as much as he needed. 

Bucky whispered, sadly, sounding even afraid, "You make my head quiet and loud all at the same time," Steve heard him swallow. Inhaled as Bucky spoke. "I...You were...I was supposed to kill you...but all I want..."

Steve couldn't help himself, "You can take what you want."  _Take me. I'm already yours. Remember me._

Bucky shook his head, and just like that, the spell was broken. Steve's eyes fluttered open, feeling Bucky move away from him, taking away all that beautiful contact from Steve, leaving him alone on his chair with nothing to ground him. "I don't want that," Bucky said, his voice flat. 

It took Steve too long to understand, to realize how his words could be taken. How those words might mean to a former assassin, or worse, to someone who had been tortured, brainwashed. "Bucky, that's not what...I'm sorry, I just, jeez, you make me lose myself."

"I don't want you to lose yourself," Bucky shook his head--and Steve swore inside his mind because this was _not_ what he meant. He didn't mean these things in a negative way, but of course, to someone who had lost himself, not just time, like Steve did, but really  _lost_ himself, that word would not sit well with him. Of course, for this man who was trying to change himself, he would not want to have that happen to another. "I am already lost. I'm looking to be found. What are you looking for?"

Steve shrugged sadly. "Same thing as you Bucky, except, you already found me."

Bucky's eyes swam with fear, hope, and dread all at the same time. Steve ached for him, he wanted to say more, but he didn't know what to say. Apparently, Bucky didn't know either. So they didn't say a word to each other for the rest of the day. Bucky answered Steve's messages for him (while Steve watched over his shoulder), the two of them read quietly in their respective corners of the room, while Steve longed to feel touch until sleep took him under that night. 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you all for the amazing comments, please keep them coming they really motivated me :) xx


	3. breakthrough

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trigger warnings: mentions of past traumas, including rape and torture

For three days, Steve and Bucky didn’t speak to each other.

Steve thought this was a special kind of hell that he was in. When he thought Bucky had died, he had missed him more than he had ever missed anyone in his life. But with Bucky being in the same room as him, but unable to _be_ with him, that was a whole other kind of feeling. To miss someone while they were right in front of you was certainly undesirable.

Within those three days, Bucky barely even looked at him. Steve felt guilty, wished he could take back what had happened. Their foreheads touching seemed so innocent to him, it was something they used to do all the time to block out the world. As it turned out, with Bucky’s current state of mind, it seemed to hurt him more than anything. Bucky was stomping around the apartment all day, his lips turned into a frown, his eyes dark and lost. He would leave occasionally for groceries, or clothes, or books. Steve wasn’t allowed to leave the apartment, but he was getting antsy from the lack of sun. Only when Bucky was home was Steve allowed to step out of the apartment onto the small balcony in order to feel the sun on his skin. He managed in those three days to take out his frustrations by working out.

It made him happy to occasionally see Bucky stare at him while he did that.

The nights were worse than the days. Bucky had slept half decent the second night they were together, but he was tossing and turning, occasionally murmuring. The following night, he was worse—thrashing. Sweating and mumbling in Russian. Steve could tell from the tone of his voice that he was begging. Once or twice, he caught his own name. That first night Steve had slept so well, but he figured it was likely due to exhaustion. Now, with Bucky so restless, Steve didn’t know how to make it better, and it made him lose sleep in the process. It made him ache. He wanted nothing more than to curl himself around Bucky and fight off whatever demons he was dreaming about.

On the third day, Bucky had brought home a punching bag and hung it towards the side of the apartment for Steve. Steve said a quiet thank you, but Bucky didn’t return it with you're welcome, he just stayed quiet. He punched that bag for an hour, maybe more, and Bucky watched from the mattress, his arms curled around his legs.

When night fell, Steve sighed and closed his eyes, but was uneasy. He could tell that Bucky was awake, he was too still to be asleep.

Still, when Bucky’s voice broke, cracking across the night, it made Steve’s eyes snap open, his body tense.

“When they first captured me, they were having a hard time making me submit,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. Steve wondered if Bucky knew he was awake, or if he was just talking to make himself feel better.

No, Bucky was too smart. He had to know Steve was listening.

“They had to try and think of ways to make me submit, because beating me into submission definitely wasn’t helping. I was stronger than most of them.” He quieted for a few moments, and Steve almost turned around, but then Bucky continued, slower now. “That’s when they tried forcing me into the chair.”

Steve tensed. He knew what Bucky was referring to.

“But I was still stronger than them. Killed one of their guys. So, they decided to take away my choice another way.” He sighed softly. “I was holding onto you, see? They had my file, somehow, from the army. Notes stuffed in…our commander knew we were fucking, did you know that?”

Steve almost said that what they had was more than just _fucking_ but this was not his story, and the fact that Bucky was talking at all was too important for Steve to just interrupt.

“They shot me in the leg,” Bucky said, his voice as dead as his eyes had been for three days. “Then they used me. I’m sure you can fill in the blanks on that. Mostly they used my mouth. I managed to kill one while it was happening, bit off his dick. But then...”

Steve couldn’t take it anymore. He breathed out unsteadily, tears dripping freely down his face, tears that he hadn’t even known he was holding in. He shook his head and turned over, looking at Bucky, unseen in the darkness of his apartment. He did not dare to touch him. But he wanted to. He wanted to hold Bucky so close that they would mold their bodies together. Take away this pain that his friend was in. Pain that he did not deserve. He wanted to tell him he loved him more than anyone had loved anything. 

All he did, was whisper, “Bucky.”

Bucky continued like he didn’t hear Steve, but Steve heard the slight tremor in his voice. “They dragged me to the chair after that. Before they started, they told me that the reason why they used me was not because they wanted to. Because they didn’t want a _cripple._ But they did it because the only thing that kept me fighting was you. Before the chair, I remembered you. It kept me going. Taking you away, in every way, made me submit. My memories…every good touch I had ever known. Gone.”

“Buck…” But Steve had nothing to say. All he could do was lay there, listen and cry for his friend who had gone through more than anyone should ever have to. That, and wish he could go back in time and beat the living shit out of those people.

“Do you know how easy it is to kill someone Steve, when you lose all sense of yourself?” Bucky asked, low and dangerous. “When you don’t feel anything inside? When you forget who you were, who you are, and can’t even see a future for yourself?”

“Bucky, please,” Steve choked. “Let me…”

“Let you what Steve?” Bucky asked seriously. “Do you think you can just hold me and everything will be okay? Do you think just because you say my fucking name, and it makes me remember you that suddenly everything that has happened is gone?”

A knife, twisting into his belly from the shame, the truth of it all. “No,” Steve whispered.

Bucky laughed bitterly. “They didn’t care about erasing me, Steve. They cared about erasing _you_.” His voice dropped again, and from the sounds of it, he was crying. Steve was in so much pain for his friend, for his love, he wanted to _fix it so badly._ “And yet even when they managed to, I still knew something was missing. You bastard.” He whimpered. “Do you know how fucking annoying it is to miss someone you can’t even remember? How fucked up that is? To love someone like you?”

Steve’s heart soared. _Love, love, love._ Though that word invaded his brain, he did not dare comment on it. He didn’t say how Bucky had used present tense instead of past tense. He would not do that to him, not right now, not when he was baring his soul to Steve.

“Bucky,” Steve swallowed. “Let me help you.”

“You can’t fix me.” Bucky snapped.

“No,” Steve agreed. “But I can help you.”

“How?”

“By being here for you. That’s why you brought me here right?”

“I don’t know…I didn’t know, at the time, why I did that. It comes and goes.” Bucky admitted. “Right now, my mind just seems clear, but the past couple of days, I’ve been in and out of it.”

Steve nodded. “You sound like yourself.”

“I don’t even know who I am anymore Steve.”

 _I will make you remember. I will make you remember all of it._ “You’re Bucky, and I’m Steve. Same as it’s always been.” He paused, and then quietly asked, “Tell me why you pulled me from the river.” A question he had already asked, that he knew he would get an answer to today. 

Bucky was quiet for a long moment, so long that Steve actually thought that the conversation was over. “You know why.”

“Say it,” Steve begged.

“I knew, at that moment, that you weren’t someone I was supposed to hurt. Something in my head was telling me that you were someone I was supposed to protect. Even if I didn’t know why. That stupid chair, they only used it so often because you kept coming back in my head. Like a god damn disease.”

“Gee, thanks Buck.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Yeah,” he breathed out softly. “Yeah…”

The conversation lagged again, and Steve took the time of silence to roll some words around in his mouth, trying to figure out what it was he wanted to say. There was a lot he could say, even more, that he probably shouldn’t say, so he decided that speaking from somewhere between those two points would be the way to go. Bucky was trusting him for a reason, he was giving him what he could now before anything triggered him into the Winter Soldier part of his mind again. Before the dreams came for him.

What he wanted to say was: _I love you, I’m here for you. Tony might be able to help fix you. Someone somewhere has to be able to help you._

What he said instead was, “I’m here for you, as long as you need me. I’m not leaving. I’m yours, I always have been.”

Bucky sighed, like what Steve was saying was a physical weight on his chest, pushing him down onto the bed. “How can you love me, after all this time?”

There it was again. That word.

Steve was honest. “I could never stop loving you, pal.”

Bucky chuckled softly. “You and I are a mess, aren’t we?”

“Yeah.” Steve murmured back. Still not touching his friend, even though that went against every fiber in his being, he said, “Would you like…I mean, I can tell you stories. From the 40s.”

Bucky tensed a fraction. “That’d be nice,” he said quietly like he was admitting defeat.

Steve smiled, grateful for a reason to talk. “You said,” he swallowed his hatred, and chose to speak. “You said they wanted you to forget what it meant to know a good touch. Well, back then, all you knew was that. I was sick then, remember? So skinny that wind could knock me over. I was sick too. Real sick. But you and I…Bucky, you took such good care of me. You kept me warm in the winters, made sure I ate, protected me from every fight that I would start. And when we made love, you touched me like I was the most delicate person in the whole world. Always took your time with me, so I wouldn’t overdo it. Then when I changed, I was worried that I was too much, but you treated me the same as ever. You were the only one who saw me before I became Captain America. And you’re still the only one who sees me.”

Bucky snorted. “That’s not really a story.”

“Maybe not,” Steve agreed. “But you know me, I get sentimental quick.” He sighed, wiping away another tear that escaped. He wished that he could hold his tears in, wished he could hold himself together, but they seemed to have a mind of their own, escaping from Steve without his consent. “You didn’t deserve the things that happened to you.”

“I killed people, Steve. A lot of people.”

“It wasn’t you.”

Bucky sighed, agitated. “I’ve killed hundreds of people, Steve. Hundreds. I don’t deserve good things.”

“Then why am I here?”

Bucky was quick to answer, “Just because you’re here, doesn’t mean I deserve you.”

“What about what I deserve then?” Steve challenged. “Don’t I deserve you? Don’t I deserve to be with you?”

“I don’t know. I think you deserve better, but maybe that’s just me.”

“It is just you.”

“Steve,” Bucky hissed. “I’m not…tomorrow I can wake up, have a bad dream and be totally different.”

“You’re saying these things like it’ll change how I feel about you.”

“It should.”

“It won’t.”

“You’re impossible.”

“And you are good.” Steve murmured, shifting closer, but still not touching. He wouldn’t dare to without getting the okay first. “I’ll tell you that until the day I die if I have to. Y’know Buck, maybe staying away from each other is worse than being together. Maybe…maybe _being together_ will make you remember more. Or make you…happy.”

It was Bucky, only Bucky, who answered. Not the Winter Solider. “You’ll stay with me?” Vulnerable.

“As long as you want me here.”

“Always,” Bucky begged, pleaded, finally giving himself over. All at once, he curled inwards, forward to Steve—three days of being separated,  _that pain,_ despite being in the same house, coming over both of them. A wall being torn down by Bucky’s own hands. Desperation clawing at them both. Perhaps it was just easier for Bucky to be honest in the dark.

They found each other in the dark, their arms reaching for each other. Steve brought Bucky close to him, tucking his head under his neck. Bucky shook in his arms, breathed him in, running his nose along Steve’s neck. Their arms tightened around each other, locking them in place. Bucky sighed shakily, and Steve cried quietly, his tears falling on top of Bucky’s hair.

“I’m here,” Steve whispered.

It had taken one word for Steve to begin to undo seventy years of brainwashing. It had taken four days to get Bucky to want to be close to him again.

Things would be okay. Things would be okay because Steve would make them okay.

 

* * *

 

Two hours later, he got a text message from Tony Stark that went unseen.

_Tony: We’re coming for you._

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope you all liked this chapter! it was so nice for me to write, in a therapeutic way. i hope you all enjoyed the breakthrough we got between them, although things will still not be a walk in the park, they still have a lot of trust issues to work through
> 
> thank you all for the lovely comments, they really motivate me to continue :) xx


	4. the avengers

_Steve was not surprised when he woke up to the heat of Bucky Barnes’ body beside him._

_Often times, this was how it was. It was rare that Steve woke up alone, whether it was a work day or a day off. It never mattered, Steve would always rise with Bucky, or Bucky would lounge around in bed until he had no choice to leave Steve._

_“Mornin’ doll,” Bucky murmured when he realized Steve was awake. His lips pressed against Steve’s neck, his nose running along the hair ending somewhere along his neck. “Sleep okay?”_

_“Yeah,” Steve sighed, turning over so he was facing Bucky instead. He kissed Bucky’s nose, grinning when Bucky scrunched up his nose. His hair was short, but growing in, curling in the front. “I still feel tired.”_

_“Well,” Bucky’s tone was proud, as he grinned at Steve. “I sure did exhaust you last night.”_

_“Don’t be so cocky.”_

_“I thought you liked my cock.”_

_“God,” Steve laughed, blushing all over, putting his hands over his face. “You’re terrible.” He shook his head, pressing it against Bucky’s chest. “I don’t know why I put up with you, y’know that?”_

_Bucky sighed, brushing his lips against the top of Steve’s hair. “I don’t know either.”_

_Steve frowned, because even though he was joking, he didn’t like the idea of Bucky demeaning himself. “Hey, you know I love you.”_

_Bucky smiled down at him, bright-eyed and brilliant and everything Steve loved and desired and needed. “I love you too.”_

_And they cuddled up to each other, continuing to spend the day together in their warm, sun-filled room, surrounded by each other’s bodies._

* * *

 

Steve was not surprised when he woke up alone.

He turned over in the bed, his arm reaching for Bucky, but when he found no one there, he frowned despite himself. He sighed, hoping naively that what had happened the night before would be enough to bring them together. For a brief moment, he thought it would be enough. But the bigger, smarter part of his brain realized that one deep talk was not enough to bring them together in the way Steve wanted.

He turned again, blinking to find his bearings. He had a small smile on his face but paused when he saw Bucky. Bucky was dressed in his tactical gear, his hair down. His metal arm was resting on the table, and his eyes were pinned on Steve.

“Bucky…”

“You lied to me.” Bucky’s voice was quiet, defeated. Steve wasn’t sure what Bucky was referring to, but he knew he had to tread oh so carefully.

Steve didn’t get out of the bed, but he did sit up. “About what?”

Bucky was suddenly twisting Steve’s phone in his hand, and Steve’s heart skipped a beat. He hadn’t looked at his phone since the day before, he hadn’t even _used_ it. Whatever was on that phone had clearly upset Bucky.

“Tony Stark would like you to know that he is coming to get you.” Bucky murmured, dangerously, threateningly, with venom and ill intentions behind every word. Steve knew in that moment, that Bucky, whether this Bucky was more on par with who he was or The Winter Solider, was willing to do whatever it meant to keep Steve with him, no matter how much he hated the fight.

“Bucky—”

“I won’t hesitate.” He interrupted. He didn’t have to finish his sentence, Steve and Bucky both knew exactly what he meant.

“No,” Steve said, slowly getting up, carefully. Bucky was on edge, he was watching Steve move like a predator stalking prey. Or maybe even a frightened animal that Steve was approaching. “You said you wouldn’t hurt them.”

“You said you would stay.”

“I _will_ stay.” Steve pressed, his hand reaching out for the phone. “Let me call Tony. Come on, I promise, you can stay here and listen the whole time.”

Bucky’s eyes flashed, debating. He looked at Steve hard, assessing him, before he nodded at the chair in front of him. “Sit down.” When Steve did as he was told, he passed the phone over to him.

Steve smiled sadly, breathing in heavily and sighing as he dialed Tony’s number. His heart was beating fiercely against his chest, he didn’t know why he was so nervous. Bucky watching him, being this insecure and choosing to pass it off as something violently territorial was not good. Steve didn’t mind Bucky being dominant, but he had to bring Bucky back to being dominant in the domestic way he once was, not in this new aggressive way.

Tony Stark picked up on the first ring. “Cap, good. We located you, by the way, really easily because there’s a tracker on your phone for things like this.”

“Tony,” Steve made sure his voice was steel. “Don’t come for me.”

“We’re kind of already here.”

Bucky, who heard Tony speak from where he sat, reacted immediately. He didn’t even need to speak, and Steve didn’t have time to do anything. All at once, everything shot to hell. Tony Stark in his Iron Man costume, kicked open the door, and Natasha Romanoff rolled in, her gun out. Sam Wilson was on the balcony outside, judging from the wings Steve heard. But as that happened, Bucky jumped over the table, knocking Steve down with his entire body, keeping him covered and kicking the table so it ended up on its side, blocking them from view.

Bucky wasn’t fighting, he had _listened_ to Steve, and the only thing he was trying to do was protect Steve and keep Steve with him.

Or that’s what Steve thought.

Bucky said in his ear, “I can’t let them take you from me again.” And then he was up, and from his thigh holster he undid his gun and had it pointed at them. Quickly, Steve got up—listening to Bucky’s arm get ready, listening to Tony power up, listening to Natasha breathe in—

“Stop!” Steve said, putting his arms out. He took the liberty of placing one on Bucky’s chest, hoping it would ground him in some fashion. “Bucky, don’t,” he demanded, and although Bucky seemed more than ready to kill every person who had come into his home, he actually did listen this time. Surprising all of them, including Sam who just walked in, Bucky put his gun down.

Tony’s mask retracted, revealing his handsome face. Steve looked over at him, eyes desperate. Tony grinned, “Good, he’ll come in easy.” Normally, Steve depended on that arrogance. It, more often than not, kept the team calm in stressful situations. It was a defense mechanism, but also worked as a safety net for the whole team. Now though, was not the time for it.

Steve did not stand down. “He’s not going anywhere.”

Natasha’s eyes were on Bucky, even though she spoke to Steve. “Steve, he’s a HYDRA agent, he may know—”

“I’m not letting you take him.”

“That’s not up to you.”

“It’s not up to you either,” Steve said, and though he was answering Natasha, he was looking at Tony. “Tony, you don’t understand—”

“Steve…” Sam warned.

“No, please,” Steve felt himself take a step forward, but Bucky’s hand was suddenly there, at his back, tugging at his shirt to keep him close. Steve’s heart almost leaped out of his chest. It was such a simple act, something that meant nothing to anyone. Except to Steve, it meant the world. Because back in their day, when Steve was small, sick and so often cold, he would reach for Bucky every time Bucky would try and leave. Tug him back to Steve’s body in bed, or crowd him in the kitchen—whatever it was, and they did it to each other all the time. Bucky would manhandle Steve just by pulling on his shirt, laughing in his ear and kissing his neck.

“Cap,”

“Tony,” Steve ignored Sam and Natasha. “Tony, listen to me. He’s remembering okay? If you put him in a cell—”

“We have orders,”

“When have you _ever_ followed orders?”

“This is different.”

Bucky mumbled, “Tony Stark,” his eyes flashed, hurt in just those two words. Steve looked back at him, and there was hurt in his eyes. “Stark. We knew…there was a man.”

Steve couldn’t help it, he turned to Bucky, his hand curling over Bucky’s shoulder. “Yeah Bucky, Howard Stark. He was a friend.”

Bucky nodded, but the pain didn’t disappear from his eyes. “A friend…”

Natasha’s voice was soft, apologetic. “Steve, he’s unstable…”

“Don’t,” Steve snapped. “Get out of here.”

Tony walked forward, ready to either try and calm Steve down or take Bucky. Either way, whatever Bucky saw in his expression, sent him over the edge. He quickly tripped Steve, sending him to the ground and out of harm’s way, and raised his gun, pointing it at Tony. Tony fired before anyone else did, sending Bucky into the wall opposite them. Quickly, as Bucky got up and got ready to fire, Steve looked around and grabbed his shield, throwing it to Bucky so he could know to protect himself. He got up and ran towards Tony, using his entire body to tackle him down to the ground.

“Tony, please,” he breathed in his ear. “Don’t take him from me.”

Natasha and Sam hadn’t moved, for which Steve thanked the universe, because they _knew_ what Steve had gone through to get to him, how much Bucky meant to him. Sam knew more than Natasha, but only because Steve had chosen to tell him more. Steve wondered if Natasha was digging into their files to find out more, or actually letting him have his privacy.

Natasha and Sam pulled him off, and Steve went willingly to show he wasn’t a threat. His tone was pleading, “Please,” he whispered, shaking free of them and walking over to Bucky. Bucky was panting heavily, shaken and afraid, doing everything he could to not attack. Steve could see it in his eyes, the way his posture was, his eyes darting to every enemy in the room. The way his metal hand was curled into a fist. Slowly, Steve brought his hands to Bucky’s face, and though he had gone under, maybe, as the asset, his frightened but alert eyes zeroed in on Steve. “We’re going to be okay,” Steve promised.

Bucky didn’t answer.

Steve curled Bucky’s hair behind his ears. “I’m going to keep you safe.” And with that, he stood right in front of Bucky, and crossed his arms. “You’ll have to kill me, if you want to bring him in.”

Sam snorted. “You’re one dramatic son of a bitch.” And in that moment, Steve's heart swelled with love for his friend. He hoped he looked at him with as much love as he was feeling, and judging from Sam's smile, he succeeded in doing so. Sam, he figured, was here not to help Tony, but simply, to have an excuse to check in on Steve. From behind his goggles, Sam winked at Steve.

Tony sighed angrily. “Do you think I want to be here doing this?”

“Then go,”

Natasha sighed, putting her gun in her holster. Tony looked around at her incredulously, “You’re just going to walk away? You, of all people.” he waved his hand at her, shocked and dismayed by what was going on around him.

“I’m not really in the mood to murder my teammate.” She said blandly. “When you finally clue in on _this_ , I’ll be in the jet. Coming Sam?”

“You bet,” Sam winked at Steve one more time and grabbed Natasha’s hand as they ran out of the house, Sam extending his wings and carrying Natasha with him.

Tony shook his head, looking around the room. Bucky was still breathing hard behind him, reminding Steve of how he used to be when he was sick, back in the old days. Steve didn’t move from in front of him, but he watched Tony assess the situation. He looked over the mess of the place, the clothes they were sharing, the mattress with the rumpled covers. Tony looked back at him.

“How serious is this?”

Steve didn’t miss a beat. “You and Pepper serious,” he said. "From back then."

Tony shook his head, seeing that he was slowly losing this battle. “You tell me what to do here.” he sighed. "Because I'm at a loss, Steve."

Steve wished it was easier. He did. But he wouldn't budge, not on this. He would not allow anyone to come between himself and Bucky. “I’ll bring him back when he’s ready. When we’re ready.” Steve smiled best he could. “Please, Tony. Don’t make me leave him. Don’t take him.”

Tony shook his head, his eyes clear with sadness, distrust, and pain. “Fine, but if you _need anything—_ ”

“I know,” Steve whispered.

Tony nodded. He glared at Bucky, and when the two met eyes, Bucky said, “I remember him.” But it was quiet, and he didn’t offer any more details to it. Regardless of that, both Bucky’s eyes and Tony’s eyes were haunted. Tony nodded once at him, put his helmet back on and left them.

Steve breathed out, but he didn’t have time to rest. Bucky crumpled to the floor behind him, dragging Steve with him, his hands tearing at him. Steve followed him down, panicking, his eyes wide when he realized how much Bucky was sweating, tearing up, whatever memory was coming for him was taking him apart from the inside out.

“I remember,” Bucky whispered, shaking his head.

“What Buck?” Steve asked.

Bucky’s intense blue eyes met with Steve’s, and he answered, “I killed Tony Stark’s parents.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey everyone!!
> 
> i hope you all liked this chapter! thank you SO MUCH for all the amazing comments, they seriously give me soooo much motivation to continue to write more
> 
> I promise there is some sweet release to this build up coming...maybe in the next chapter...if youre nice enough to leave me a comment :D 
> 
> see how i bribe you?


	5. sleeping at last

Two very long days passed.

Bucky apparently, kept reliving what had happened. He just kept repeating to Steve over and over that he remembered all of them. Steve didn’t have to ask specifics about what that meant, it was pretty easy to put two and two together. Steve didn’t touch him for two days, although he wanted to, but he figured that touching Bucky’s face when the Avengers had showed up was more than enough for him it seemed. Besides, for the two days that passed, Bucky seemed too hostile to approach. He didn’t sleep, or if he did, it was when Steve took showers or made them food. But Steve thought he wasn’t sleeping, considering the dark circles that were under his eyes. He stayed in his tactical gear for the whole time, and because of that, Steve made sure he didn’t go near his suit or shield. He didn’t think that would help the situation.

The only thing that they had done that was out of the ordinary, was to go for a run. Steve had asked for it, and Bucky agreed, but they had to get up and do it right at dawn, when there wasn’t a lot of people around. Steve was grateful for it, and after the run, he took a quick shower and then had brought a chair outside, giving Bucky his space, and fallen asleep with the sun rising and warming him. That was the closest thing he had found to peace over the past two days.

Hearing Bucky admit killing Tony’s parents was less than shocking to Steve. He had known, figured it out while they were looking for him, reading his files in the hospital before Bucky had taken him, learning everything he had to about Bucky. It was a secret that he was going to take to the grave with him. A secret that he and only Natasha knew. A secret they would never pass along to Tony.

Steve couldn’t, he felt guilty about it, but he knew what it meant if he told Tony the truth. He would try to kill Bucky, and Steve could not let that happen. He would find a way to fix it, somehow. Because what had happened wasn’t Bucky, and he couldn’t let him get put away, not when he had no control over the things he had done.

On the third day, after their run, Steve had jumped into the shower, feeling low. Not talking for two days was driving him insane, and being in this apartment all the time was making it worse. He wanted to go _out_ he wanted to converse, he wanted the sun to hit his skin. He knew Bucky was afraid of being recognized, but no one outside of the Avengers and Hydra knew who he was. Civilians had no knowledge of the Winter Soldier, no real knowledge anyhow. He was a man with a mask. Bucky Barnes didn’t wear a mask. Not a visible one, anyhow.

Steve stood under the water, he had already washed his hair and soaped his body, washing it thoroughly. But for a while, he stayed under the water, letting the pressure of the water wash over him, relaxing his muscles. His head was bowed, and he evened out his breathing, trying to make everything in his mind leave him. Trying to forget about the pain Bucky was in, the pain he, himself, was in. Before long, he had found himself in that nice place, practically meditating in the shower.

Until the door of the bathroom opened, nearly bursting off the hinges.

Steve’s head snapped up and suddenly the shower curtain was torn off. Steve, in genuine surprise and shock, tried to react but slipped, his feet slipping from under him. He scrambled, trying to find something to grab onto, and failing. He brought his arms up to protect his head, but thankfully, Bucky caught him.

Steve held on and scrambled out of the shower—or rather, Bucky pulled him out, turning off the shower quickly. “Bucky, w-wait,” he shivered as the cold air hit his skin. “What’s wrong?” he asked, looking at Bucky’s face. His eyes were wide and terrified, his hands shaking as they held Steve, his metal arm curled around him and his human one at the base of Steve’s neck.

“You took longer than three minutes,” he breathed, panicked. “I didn’t know…I thought you left me.” He admitted it with distaste, like showing vulnerability was the worst thing he could have done. Steve supposed that for The Winter Soldier, it probably was.

“I’m here,” Steve told him, taking a risk and putting his hand on Bucky’s face. He was physically vulnerable to Bucky right now, with nothing but his naked skin exposed. Bucky was emotionally vulnerable, and Steve thought about the nice throwback to their time together in Brooklyn. When Steve was also vulnerable physically then because he was sick, and Bucky always said whatever was on his mind.

Bucky nodded, his eyes closing when Steve touched his face, exhaling raggedly. “I’m sorry.” Bucky breathed, his eyes opening and darting all around Steve’s face, before lowering to his body, taking in the fact that he was naked. Steve stood proud, not backing down, forcing himself not to blush and staring at Bucky’s face.

Bucky whispered, “Are you…are you mine?” he asked, clearly afraid.

Steve answered honestly. “I always was.”

Bucky slowly let go of Steve, something Steve would have opposed if he wasn’t afraid of scaring Bucky off. He looked Steve over again, his face, his shoulders. “You burn hotter now,” Bucky whispered, a crease in his brow. “You didn’t, when you were smaller.”

Steve glowed, he couldn’t help the smile that stretched over his features. It was true, even despite the momentary shiver that had passed him before; his body burned hot most of the time. It was never uncomfortable, never unbearable, but it helped with cold temperatures. More importantly, the fact that Bucky remembered _this_ , was acknowledging something from the _before_ that meant the absolute most to Steve.

“Yeah Buck, I’m a lot hotter now.”

Bucky even _grinned._ “And oh so humble.”

Steve laughed, feeling light-headed from the few sentences they exchanged. “That’s not what I meant.” Steve grinned.

Bucky smiled softly, nodding. “I’ll let you get dressed.” He murmured, and though he was smiling, Steve did not miss the tint of sadness in his eyes. Steve watched him go, Bucky shutting the door softly behind him. Steve was genuinely surprised that the door was still hanging on. He dressed in a tight tank top and a pair of sweatpants, his feet bare. He quickly towel dried his hair, sweeping his hand through it to push it away from his face, and stepped out of the bathroom.

When he did, he frowned, looking over at Bucky who was curled up in the bed. His suit was shed, falling in trails over the floor. All Steve could see of Bucky was his head poking out from underneath the covers.

“Bucky?” Steve asked.

Bucky glanced at him. “Lay with me,” not a question, but not quite a command. It feel somewhere in between, which seemed to be Bucky’s state of mind right now. Not the asset and not Bucky Barnes, but this new person who had been spit out by Hydra and was trying to come back to himself.

“Okay pal,” Steve whispered, walking over to him. He smiled gently as he got underneath the covers. Bucky was looking at him with a tortured stare. “You can do whatever you want,” Steve assured him.

Bucky seemed to be waiting for consent. He still seemed frightened, unsure of what he wanted and how it was interfering with whatever was happening in his head. He moved closer to Steve. Their bodies met, and Steve almost sighed in relief when he found that Bucky was dressed in a fluffy sweater and sweatpants. Steve didn’t know what he would do if Bucky was naked. His feet were bare like Steve’s, and he tangled them with Steve’s, pressing his head close, running his nose along Steve’s neck.

“Bucky?”

Bucky sighed, “I can smell you better now. You smell like…home.”

Steve knew what that meant. It wasn’t a smell, not to anyone else, except it was to the two of them. It was Brooklyn, and the smell of Bucky’s vanilla shampoo that he had in the shower. It was Steve’s natural musk, the one that Bucky always said shouldn’t have been covered up by anything else. Steve knew because Bucky was distinct in smell too—in Steve’s opinion, Bucky smelt of light, which wasn’t a smell, but Steve had no better way to describe it.

That was the thing about the serum. It wasn’t just his body that was enhanced. He saw better, heard better, smelled better. Every touch was magnified. Sometimes Steve forgot that he was human, because he was able to feel everything in such a magnified fashion. Everything was bright colors and sharp edges, every smell was sweet or terrible, every sound meant more to him than somewhere else.

Which meant Bucky was magnified, but then again, to Steve, Bucky was always bright colors.

“Steve…” Bucky murmured.

“Yeah?”

“We have to find a way to get out of here.” He whispered. “I can’t stay…they’ll come back. They’ll take me.”

“I won’t let them.”

“I don’t want you to fight them for me.”

Steve rolled his eyes, moving down just a touch so they were level with each other, looking into each other’s eyes. “I will fight the world for you.”

“I know, but I don’t want you to.”

Steve didn’t say anything for a moment, instead taking the liberty of moving his hand under the sheet. He poked Bucky’s stomach playfully, and Bucky huffed, grinned and then nodded. Steve placed his hand on Bucky’s hip, and though there was no skin contact from it, it was more than enough to ground him. Steve moved his head closer, and their noses brushed and brushed and brushed, over and over again, until Steve made Bucky laugh softly from it.

Steve whispered, “You seem more like yourself today.”

Bucky shrugged. “I feel tired…but yes, a bit more like…me, from before.”

“That makes you tired?”

“There’s so much I remember when I feel like myself. It’s overwhelming.”

“Any of these memories, are they about me?”

“All the important ones.” But in a second, like the flip of a switch, his eyes went sad. He sighed and sat up, the blankets falling from his body, his hair messy. He quickly took off his shirt, revealing his insanely beautiful body, one that Steve knew like the back of his hand, and looked down at where his metal arm met skin. He brought his human hand up to it and scratched at the metal, his bottom lip quivering, his eyes shaking with anger. “I want this off me.”

“Bucky,” Steve whispered, getting up, stilling Bucky’s hand. “You’ll hurt yourself.”

Bucky didn’t seem to care. He swatted Steve’s hand away and scratched at it, hissing when his nail caught the jagged lines, the sensitive skin that was there. “I hate it.”

Steve tore Bucky’s hand away from his shoulder, and before Bucky could try and put it back, Steve pressed his lips where metal met skin. He froze, not quite sure whether or not he was allowed to do this, if he was crossing a line, but when Bucky didn’t punch him in the face, he took the liberty of pressing another soft kiss along the same lines. Steve understood, best he could anyway, why Bucky hated this arm. Not because it was metal, but because of who it came from, what he had done because of it. What the arm meant.

Steve brought his head up, his face dangerously close to Bucky’s, so close that he could see the fresh tears sticking to his eyelashes.

“Steve…” he whispered, his voice breaking apart.

Steve could see it in Bucky’s eyes, the amount of pain he was in. From his memories and reality all swirling together in his head, taking him apart piece by piece. “What is it?” Steve urged.

Bucky whimpered, “Steve, I love you.” And he broke, and sobbed, and whatever memories that he remembered today were apparently enough to undo him, to send him over the edge, to give in to the one thing that he _knew_ was good in his life.

Steve caught Bucky’s head in his hands, cradling him. “Oh Buck, I love you too.” He breathed, and finally, after all these years spent apart, their lips met for a kiss.

It was everything that Steve remembered about Bucky; soft lips, but demanding in their nature. They molded to Steve’s own, it was familiar and wonderful. It was Bucky breathing out shakily against his lips, and Steve being greedy and pushing his lips against Bucky’s, begging for more. Steve’s hands cupped Bucky’s face, holding him close, and Bucky’s hand moved to the back of Steve’s neck, keeping him there. It was soft and desperate all at the same time, and Steve felt more complete in that moment than he had since he had woken up from the ice.

Bucky pulled back, pressing his forehead on Steve’s shoulder, breathing heavily. “My head hurts…” he murmured.

Steve had to take a moment to breathe, to collect himself. His lips felt numb with raw desire. “Okay,” Steve kissed his hair, his shoulder, whatever he could reach. He couldn’t stop, he felt high. “Okay,” he motioned to Bucky, pulling him back on the bed so they were laying with each other like they were before. Steve pulled the sheets back over the two of them.

Bucky’s eyes fluttered open. “That was intense.”

“That’s nothing.” Steve grinned. “Not compared to what we used to do.”

“I don’t remember all of it.”

“But you remember some?”

Bucky grinned, a tiny small thing. “Some. I think, I remember…afterwards, after we would have sex…I used to hold you.”

Steve nodded, “Not just after that. Every time we used to go to bed, unless it was hot out. When I was sick, or cold, you’d hug me from behind, hold me close so I didn’t catch a worse cold. You were always taking care of me.”

Bucky’s eyes saddened. “Not like now.”

“You still take care of me.”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “You know that’s not true.”

Steve kissed Bucky’s nose, grinning as he frowned, and whispered, “You take care of my heart.”

Bucky sighed sadly. “I broke your heart.”

“No, you made me remember what it was like to feel again. I was afraid I wouldn’t, until you came back to me.” He ran his fingers through Bucky’s hair, the long, silky locks, and murmured, “Don’t belittle yourself, don’t belittle _this._ Okay?” Bucky didn’t respond, but he smiled softly, a sad, small thing. “What?” Steve asked, kissing the corner of his mouth. He couldn’t help it, not when Bucky was so close, not when they had finally had a decent breakthrough.

“Is that what you would like?” Bucky asked. “For me to hold you?”

Steve wanted that very badly. He missed being curled up by Bucky, feeling safe and wanted and loved. Steve was always someone who thrived on companionship, and though he loved the Avengers dearly, there were just some things that he needed that they could not give him.

“Only if you want.”

Bucky frowned at him. “I want you to tell me what you want.”

Steve chuckled. “Then yeah, I want you to hold me.”

Bucky was silent for a small moment, and Steve let him have that silence. He contemplated something in his head, battling the asset and trying to hold onto what was dear to him—to Steve. Bucky was right about so many things. They did have to find a way out of this mess, they had to figure out what they were going to do. But those were problems for tomorrow, for the future, not right now when there was something good worth having.

“Turn around,” Bucky murmured.

Too excited, Steve smiled grandly, earning a small chuckle from Bucky. Steve took that small laugh and placed it in his heart, keeping it both as a trophy and as a memory. They shifted a bit, Steve doing what felt natural and moving a bit lower—when he was small, his head would always be tucked under Bucky’s, near his chest. Bucky seemed to know what he was doing, because when he crowded Steve’s space, he curled himself to Steve as though he was the taller of the two. His nose brushed the top of Steve’s hair, their legs tangled with each other, and Bucky’s shaking right arm curled around Steve’s waist, holding him close. Steve put his hand over Bucky’s and twined their fingers together.

Steve whispered, “You okay?”

Bucky answered, “Trying to be.”

Steve didn’t say anything else. He lay with Bucky, happily surrounded by his warmth, the heaviness of having a body behind him. Feeling Bucky’s chin, or nose, or lips occasionally touch the top of his head. He felt complete and utter joy, and peace, when Bucky’s hand finally relaxed, the rest of his muscles along with it, and he crushed his chest to Steve, huffing a breath into Steve’s hair, making him smile again. Steve didn’t move, didn’t speak, he lay perfectly still.

And finally, after two days, Bucky fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HELLO FRIENDS!!!!
> 
> thank you all for the lovely comments, AND KEEP THEM COMING PLEASE I SMILE SO MUCH WHEN I READ THEM 
> 
> i hope you liked this evolution chapter! it was well deserved, i think! but don't worry, angst is never too far away from these two, but at least they are learning to grow with each other :)
> 
> thanks for the love xx


	6. the park

The sun was shining into the apartment.

It was so bright, that it made Steve wake up. He felt the warmth on his body, felt the light hit his lids. He groaned and stretched, blinking slowly as he adjusted to the apartment, it felt entirely new. Bucky was up, dressed in nothing but shorts and a tank top, hair pulled back in a messy bun. He was tearing down the newspapers from the windows and the door, but his face was serious. Steve stayed still for a moment, watching him move, watching his muscles, his face, his eyes. He seemed nervous, a frantic energy rolling around inside of him.

The day before had developed lazily—after Bucky had fallen asleep, Steve had followed, taking a nap while Bucky caught up on the sleep he had missed. After that, they had eaten, and talked a bit, Steve trading stories for memories, Bucky recounting little bits of what he remembered. Steve would take any of it, and help in any possible way that he could. Apart from that, there had been no more kissing, but Steve did not mind. He wanted to do what was best for Bucky, and he did not want to ask for more than he was allowed. For more than Bucky could handle. Bucky would lead. And yesterday, one kiss was enough, but Bucky seemed content with touching him, holding him.

“Morning Buck,” Steve said, sitting up.

Bucky didn’t look at him, but he answered, “Morning.”

“What’re you doing?”

Bucky looked at the newspaper obviously. “You can see what I’m doing.”

Steve rolled his eyes. Bucky didn’t use to be so literal. “Why are you taking out the newspapers?”

Bucky shrugged, something happening in his eyes—a war he was trying to hide from Steve. Steve of course, caught everything anyway. “You like the sun,” he mumbled.

Steve understood. Bucky was trying to make him happy, torn between that and keeping the newspaper up to ease his fears and anxiety. He was trying to make this a home for Steve in the best way he knew how, but by doing that, was compromising himself in the process.

“I do, yeah.” He said, getting up and stretching. Bucky’s nervous eyes quickly passed over Steve, quick enough that it lasted only a second, but long enough that Steve caught it. “But I don’t want you to be—”

“I’m always uncomfortable.” Bucky interrupted him. “That’s what you were going to say, right? You want me to feel okay. But I can’t…you make my head so…” he sighed, agitated with himself. “Loud.”

“You know, it used to be the other way around,” Steve said, trying to lighten the mood. Bucky seemed like he was in that strange in-between place again, but Steve was slowly learning that the more he acted normal, like nothing was wrong inside of him, the better Bucky was at reacting. “I used to be the one who couldn’t shut up.”

Bucky shot him a dirty look. “You still are.”

Steve chuckled, going to the fridge, taking out supplies for breakfast. They were dwindling on food, something Bucky noticed too as he looked over Steve’s shoulder, peering into the fridge alongside him. “We should go get some groceries,” Steve noted. He looked at Bucky, prepared to hear Bucky agree, and that he would go alone, and Steve would have to stay here, but Bucky just nodded.

“We should.”

“We?” Steve asked hopefully.

Bucky glanced at him, taking a step back. “I want…I don’t want you to be unhappy. Here. You said you’re mine.”

Steve nodded. “I am, pal.”

“But…I’m yours too. And, I don’t want you to feel like a prisoner.”

“Even though you kidnapped me.”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “You’re not a kid.”

“Details,”

“Are you mad?” Bucky asked seriously. “That I took you?”

Steve shook his head. “You didn’t really take me. You told me to come, and I did, because I wanted to. I always wanted to. You died, and I followed you there too, I just came out of the ice afterward. But where you go, I go.”

Bucky sighed, rubbing his eyes, his forehead creasing. “You talk about your feelings so freely.”

“Well a boy told me he loved me last night, so I’m feeling pretty romantic.” Bucky lowered his hands, looking tired and worn, anxiety written all over his face from this new thing he was doing for Steve. “Bucky, is there something you want?”

Bucky sighed. “Too much.”

“What’s too much?”

“What I want. You. Everything.”

“If you want me, you can take what you want.”

Bucky shook his head, but not in disagreement. It was like he didn’t believe what Steve was saying to him. The nervous energy was still around him, his eyes moving from Steve’s face, to his body, and back up to his face. The sun was hitting his skin, shedding a beautiful light that Steve had only seen a handful of times throughout his time here. Steve himself felt hot all over, from the contact he had received the night before, the sun shining through the apartment.

“My body,” Bucky said softly. “Since we touched. It’s like…can I touch you?” he asked, a desperate whisper, something to ground him, keep him steady. Steve could do that, Steve could _be_ that for Bucky.

“Of course.”

Bucky breathed out unsteadily, walking over to Steve, invading his personal space. Steve, naturally, did not mind one bit. He smiled softly at Bucky, hoping it was encouraging in some way, and allowed Bucky to take all the time he wanted and needed. Bucky’s eyes traveled slower now, over Steve’s body, the crease in his forehead never disappearing as he tried to make a decision. Steve didn’t move, using all of his control to keep himself steady so that Bucky could get comfortable. But the weight of Bucky’s gaze was doing things to Steve, making him needy and hard, vulnerable under the intensity of Bucky’s eyes.

Bucky finally looked back at him, and he said, “Look at me. Don’t look away. Okay?”

Steve nodded. His breath hitched when he felt Bucky’s nimble, swift fingers dance along the edge of his boxers, slipping underneath the band. Steve wanted desperately to move, to hold on to Bucky, but he was not sure if he was allowed. So he balled his fists up by his side as he felt Bucky go even lower, his hand wrapping around Steve’s half hard length. Bucky’s eyes were staring into Steve’s, desperate and lonely. Steve wanted to kiss him.

Bucky began to move his hand, slowly, in order to get Steve fully hard. Steve was breathing best he could, but found it difficult to breathe normally, hold eye contact, stand up, and not touch. There was too much control that had to be placed into this moment, when all Steve wanted to do was lose that control.

Bucky spoke as he moved his hand, his eyes never leaving Steve’s. “I can’t trust my own mind,” he whispered, thumbing Steve’s slit as he was fully hard. Steve whimpered at the touch, and that sound seemed to do something to Bucky, his eyes widened a fraction. “But I remember _everything_.”

Steve began to shake, a slow, building heat starting in his stomach. “Everything?” he whispered.

“Everything,” Bucky confirmed. “It came to me like a flood. Every touch, every kiss, the dates. The war, the fall. All of it. I remember you. I remember laughing with you, holding you. I remember _this._ ” Bucky said, tightening his hold just a fraction, making Steve buck his hips with a gasp, his hand reaching out to grab hold of Bucky’s shoulders. “Don’t close your eyes.” Bucky reminded him with a whisper.

Steve was struggling to do as he was told, but did it for Bucky. Because Bucky was giving himself in this moment, the same way he had done the night before. He was giving Steve sunlight and memories and touches that, at the start of all this, he thought he would never get again.

“I remember,” Bucky murmured, his voice low and heated now that Steve was panting openly, slowly bucking his hips. “That once I got you started, it took you a while before you could stop. I remember you took me in the tent once, _six times,_ because of your serum.”

Steve breathed out, “Jesus.” He remembered, of course he remembered. He kept apologizing to Bucky, over and over again, because Bucky was oversensitive and had small tears by his eyes—he wasn’t in pain, he was blissed out in pleasure, but it was so much, but he never said no. He had wanted it, that painful pleasure. He had taken everything Steve had to give to him.

“I remember you telling me you loved me,” Bucky continued. “Over and over.”

“I do,” Steve murmured, his knees were threatening to buckle. “I do Bucky, I do, I do, I _d—”_ but his voice got lost in the overwhelming pleasure as Bucky picked up speed, his eyes dark and excited as he watched Steve climb higher and higher to that point of pure pleasure, taking him apart, Steve not breaking eye contact as he came in his boxers, over Bucky’s hand, shaking all over.

But it was true, what Bucky said. The high would last for a while, the _need_ would be here, he had to do it over and over again until it subsided. It was a perk sometimes, but a pain others.

Bucky took out his hand, looking at it with Steve all over him. He raised it to his mouth and licked it, his eyes back on Steve, who moaned, taking Bucky’s hand away from his mouth and kissing him with as much desire and need as he could muster. Bucky kissed him back with that same kind of raw intensity, his tongue fucking into Steve’s mouth, filthy and lovely, and everything Steve needed. He ground up against Bucky, his body ready for more, more, _more._

“Steve,” Bucky breathed, pulling back. “I…”

Steve understood before Bucky said anything. “You don’t have to.” He said, even though the words were choked out of him. “I’ll…shower.” He finished lamely.

“I’m—”

“Don’t be sorry,” Steve said, kissing both of his cheeks. “We will take this as slow as you want.” But he was greedy, and so leaned in again for another kiss, slower now, a lazy makeout like they used to do on those summer days when they sat outside on their balcony. Those few moments where they did not care who would see them or what would come of it. Bucky’s mouth just tasted so good, too good to pass up. He needed it all the time, he wanted to live and die by the taste of Bucky’s mouth.

When they pulled apart, Steve was panting like a dog. He laughed at himself, making Bucky smile.

“I’ll go shower.” He said. Bucky nodded. Steve quickly walked away from him, turning on the shower and stepping in, making himself climax another two times before he finally was done.

 

* * *

 

They were at the park.

They were actually outside, in broad daylight at the park. They had managed to make themselves a small breakfast after Steve’s shower, and then Bucky quietly had asked him to join him for groceries, and then a walk in the park. So they had gone out to get some food, and then returned to the apartment with it, stocking it in the fridge. After that, Bucky had taken the liberty of grabbing Steve’s hand, and bringing him to the park. They were walking along the path, not quite paying attention to anyone else. Bucky’s hold on Steve’s hand kept tightening and loosening, like he was still afraid Steve might run if he didn’t keep a tight enough hold.

“Does it make you sad?” Bucky asked, breaking the silence. “Doing things like this?”

Steve looked over at him. They had changed, and now Bucky was wearing a soft baby blue sweater, his hair still tied back, and dark jeans. “No, why would it?”

Bucky shrugged. “It could have been like this. We lost a lot of time.”

“We did, but we can do this now. We are doing this now.”

“Yeah,” Bucky nodded. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be so…”

“Melodramatic?”

“Brat.”

Steve smiled, bringing Bucky’s hand to his mouth and kissing it. Bucky looked over at him softly, almost sadly. “Any moment I spend with you is a good one. We will make up for all the time we lost, I promise.”

Bucky sighed, bringing Steve over to a park bench, sitting him down. “I want a life with you, Steve.” He murmured. “I wanted it then, and I want it now.”

“I do too.”

“Can we have that? With my mind like this?” he pulled Steve closer to them, their ankles over one another, their hands twined together so tight Steve couldn’t tell where his hands started and ended. Their heads were close, close enough for their noses to brush, for Steve to count the eyelashes that framed Bucky’s heartbreakingly beautiful eyes.

“We can find you help.”

“How?”

“You know how.”

“The Avengers, right?” Bucky nearly spat out the words, not quite sure how to share Steve with this new family. This family that Bucky had hurt, in more than one way. Whether by battling them in Washington, or hurting their family, as he had done to Tony. “I’m not ready for them.”

“We don’t have to go right away. We don’t have to go at all. I just want you to be happy Buck.”

Bucky sighed. “I don’t know what to do with you.” He shook his head, smiling tenderly at Steve. “You are so willing and easy with me.”

“I’m definitely easy.”

Bucky laughed, a real laugh, loud and vibrant and everything Steve adored and remembered. His eyes crinkled at the sides, his mouth wide and open, his head tilted back a bit. The sound warmed Steve’s body from head to toe. “You know, you are not as shy and good as everyone thinks you are.”

“Well, you dirtied me up.”

Bucky snorted. “Oh, I did, did I?” he shook his head, moving forward to bite playfully at Steve’s jaw. Steve chuckled and turned his head, so he could kiss the corner of Bucky’s mouth. “I think you were just always a little shit.”

“You know that better than anyone.”

“I remember when you were so small, felt like I was gonna break you.” He was speaking quicker now, excitement shining in him, like a switch had been turned off in his brain, and he was just suddenly Bucky Barnes, his accent and persona back strong. Steve didn’t understand it, this mind, how it was working, but he would take whatever Bucky threw at him, go along with all of it, if that is what would help. “Didn’t matter how small you were though, you never said no to a fight.”

Steve shrugged. “Some people needed lessons.”

Bucky chuckled. “Except you were the one getting your ass kicked.”

“Well, you always arrived in the knick of time to save me.”

Bucky’s eyes went soft, and he lifted his hand to caress the side of Steve’s face. “I always will.”

“I know,” Steve murmured. “I know.”

Bucky leaned forward, his forehead hitting Steve’s. “Tell me you love me,” he begged.

Steve answered willingly, “I love you.”

Bucky breathed out shakily, and their lips met. They stayed there for what seemed like an eternity, rolling their tongues together, kissing and doting on one another, their hands soft, not persistent. The afternoon strolled by them lazily, their senses all on the other and the feeling of being in each other’s arms. Having this moment, right here. Right now. No one else but them. It was the two of them giving each other their all, forgetting about the rest of the world. Zeroing in on what was happening right in that moment. They did not care about the people walking past them. They barely noticed them to begin with.

Which was why they did not realize someone watching them from behind the trees.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this one is a bit shorter guys, im soo exhausted lately, but i thought i would update with a little bit of fluff before everything goes up in flames!! just kidding.  
> mostly. 
> 
> up next: sex, angst, love, and violence
> 
> thank you all so much for the comments, they really keep me going :) xx hope you liked it!


	7. hawkeye

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trigger warnings: mentions of self harm, including seeing scars.

They slept in the next day without meaning to. Bucky had seemed very tired from the physical sensations from the day before. Steve didn’t push for more, didn’t ask, because he knew that it was not his place. Not yet, not when Bucky was so willing to give him things slowly, Steve did not want to mess that trust up. But when he woke up the next morning, he found that he had other things on his mind.

They had slept the night before in each other’s arms, but looking at each other. Bucky had taken to holding Steve close to him, which Steve had never minded. Giving up that kind of control was okay, in fact, it seemed to ease Bucky. Steve assumed, and he was pretty sure he was correct, that if he was the one holding Bucky, he would be very tense. Bucky asleep was something beautiful to look at—well, he was always beautiful, but like this he was serene. His hair was a mess behind him, his mouth open just a touch as he breathed in and out slowly. For once, there was no crease in his forehead. He just looked at peace.

Steve smiled, looking over him, grinning when Bucky snuffled in his sleep, moving his hand from Steve’s hip to rest between them, resting his knuckles against his nose. The way his flesh hand was positioned, Steve was able to see his wrist. For a moment, Steve just stared, because one of his favourite things to do was stare at Bucky anyhow. Except, that beautiful feeling Steve woke up with quickly faded when he had noticed something he hadn’t since his arrival. All along Bucky’s wrist, there were long scars—clean in their nature, which made sense, because Bucky would do anything that suggested an unclean wound. He was an assassin after all.

As Steve’s heart broke, he moved closer and counted the lines along his wrist, stopping at the number nine. There were no more after that, but that was enough—it was too much. Steve couldn’t stop looking, couldn’t stop _thinking_ about Bucky hurting himself. Steve had never known how to take care of Bucky, as Bucky was always the one who was taking care of him. He didn’t know how to be that kind of person for Bucky back in the day, because he was sick, and tired, and couldn’t do anything like Bucky did. Then they were apart, and Steve had him back, and Bucky kept telling him that he was helping, but now looking at these scars—

“I can hear you thinking,” Bucky mumbled in his sleep. He blinked one eye open, smiling tenderly at Steve. But Steve didn’t have it in him to smile back, not while he was looking at those scars. “Stevie?”

Steve whimpered at the nickname, bringing him back to an oddly simpler time. Though the world had advanced so much, in so many wonderful ways, his relationship with Bucky had never suffered when they were young. They had loved and loved until it felt like it seeped out from their bones. Everything they did for each other was built on that love, and although they had been in such undesirable situations it never mattered as much as loving each other did.

Steve knew a bit about mental illness, mostly because there were a lot more resources about it now. Sam explained some of it to him, offered to help him with his PTSD, and Tony suffered badly ever since the battle in New York. Being with Bucky, it was hard not to see how much he was suffering. Steve just didn’t know how bad it was.

He leaned in, and without asking, without stopping to think, he pressed his lips tenderly to Bucky’s wrist, hoping that he was able to convey every emotion he felt with that one kiss.

Bucky tensed, as he knew Steve would, but he didn’t get punched in the face which he figured was a good sign. When Steve opened his eyes and pulled back a bit, Bucky’s eyes were dark, pensive. Empty.

“You weren’t supposed to see that,” he sighed, trying to pull away.

“No, please,” Steve begged, and even to his own ears, he heard the desperation in his voice. “Don’t go.”

“I don’t want pity.” Bucky left him anyway, getting up to pull himself out of bed.

Steve shot up and grabbed Bucky’s shoulder, pressing his lips against the skin there, dragging his lips along the skin, stilling Bucky, whispering between kisses, “Don’t close up. Stay with me.” He pleaded. He knew he sounded like a dying man, but he couldn’t help it. He didn’t know, he didn’t know _just how close_ he was to really losing Bucky. He had thought that yesterday was such a breakthrough, but he saw just how much time they still really needed to heal.

Bucky sighed and turned his head, so he could look at Steve, who was resting his chin on Bucky’s shoulder. Bucky looked at him as he had done in their battles, with no love whatsoever in his gaze. He was folding in, protecting himself, Steve knew that. But he had to break down those walls, make Bucky remember that he was safe here and loved.

“Talk to me,” Steve told him, bringing his hand up to caress Bucky’s face. “Is this okay?” he asked, running his hand over Bucky’s neck, his collarbone.

Bucky nodded slowly, bringing his hand up and looking down at his wrist. “These were from before you came back.” He said, so deadpan and apathetic that it broke Steve’s heart all over again. “These were at the beginning. When they were trying to take me away from myself. The pain that I gave myself was different from what they did. It made me present.”

Steve curled his hand around Bucky’s wrist. “That is not the way to be present Buck,”

“It made me remember you.”

Steve recoiled as though he had been slapped. “Hurting yourself made you think of me?”

“I know it’s fucked up. I know it doesn’t make sense,” Bucky finally looked over at him, smiling—but it was a half-smile, it didn’t reach his eyes. It was bitter and dark. “But it was not because I wanted to die. It was because I wanted to come back. It made them see that I was fighting, it made them have to work harder to take my mind apart.”

Steve understood, but he was not sure he agreed. This was the most fucked up way of someone trying to put themselves together again, but Steve couldn’t talk, he couldn’t dismiss Bucky’s feelings. He would never know what Bucky went through, and so he had no right. “It just sounds like a lot of pain on both ends.” He whispered.

“It was the only way I knew how to fight them, Steve. If the asset was hurt, it couldn’t be used. At least, that’s what I thought.”

“I don’t know how I feel about this.”

Bucky glared at him, finally showing emotion. “It isn’t about you.”

“Isn’t it?” Steve shot back.

Bucky sighed angrily, taking his wrist away. “You’re such an asshole.” He snapped, but Steve held on to him. “Fuck off.”

“No,” Steve said, taking a desperate risk. He moved, curling around Bucky who was turning away, wrapping his arms around Bucky’s torso, pressing his lips against the back of Bucky’s neck. Bucky raised his hand and put it on Steve’s, almost like he was going to pull it away, but with every kiss Steve placed along his neck, every whisper of ‘I love you’ that he whispered into the skin, brushing his nose along the back of Bucky’s head, through his hair, breathing life into him, Bucky relaxed.

“Talk to me,” Steve whispered.

Bucky murmured, “You can’t judge me for what I did. I had no other way to come back. It was my last way of fighting back before everything got taken from me. The pain reminded me of who I was, forced me to think outside of what they were doing to me. When I got to that place I got to think of you, and remember you, and be someone who wasn’t a fucking Hydra agent. I got to remember myself, and who the hell I was.”

“I don’t judge you,” Steve promised, pressing the side of his face along Bucky’s back, his hand flat on Bucky’s torso, feeling his stomach rise and fall with his breathing. “I don’t like it, but I don’t judge you. I’m just sorry that you had to do that to yourself.”

Bucky sighed, and turned his head to look at Steve over his shoulder. Steve moved so he could better suit Bucky’s needs, which seemed to work because Bucky, in a desperate attempt for touch that Steve thought he would not want, brought his hand up to grasp the back of Steve’s head, bringing him close for a crushing kiss. Steve let Bucky have his way with him, Bucky practically fucking into his mouth with his tongue, taking over completely, pressing his body to Steve’s, breathing harshly through his nose as he pressed their bodies together, curling himself to Steve’s body.

“Buck…”

“Please,” Bucky whispered, breaking apart, their foreheads touching. “Please Steve, please…” he shook his head, his voice going from apathetic to something akin to the voice Steve was using before. A plead. A desperate prayer. “Please, _please, please_ …”

Steve nodded, kissing Bucky’s nose, and then his lips softly. “Slow Bucky. Slow. Don’t do…I don’t want to make love to you like this.”

Bucky sighed, agitated and desperate, his hands clawing at Steve like he was trying to get beneath Steve’s skin. To become one person with him. It made Steve ache in every sense of the word. “Something, anything, please…” he whispered, shaking his head, kissing Steve’s lips over and over again, turning them pink and swollen from the use. “Please babydoll. Give me anything.”

It was that, more than anything that made Steve succumb to what Bucky was asking of him. That use of a pet name, the same way Bucky saying Stevie had made him strangely sad. Babydoll would have meant nothing to anyone else who had heard it, but to Steve, it meant that it was just one more thing that Bucky remembered. “Okay Buck, okay pal, I will.”

Their lips met again, and Steve tried to slow it down, take his time, but Bucky seemed desperate. Whatever battle he was fighting right now, whatever triggers he was trying to push back, he wanted to use Steve to help him in that moment.

Steve gently maneuvered Bucky so he was lying down, and Steve not quite over him but at his side, hovering. “Relax, okay?” Steve breathed. “Let me take care of you.”

Bucky looked, not frightened, but almost uncertain. “I don’t…”

“You can say no.” Steve reminded him. That would always be an option, it always had been, and that would never change. “But if you want to, I want to make you feel how you made me feel.”

Bucky nodded. “Okay.”

“You can touch me.” Steve murmured against his lips, giving him one long slow and deep kiss, full of tongue until he felt Bucky become relaxed. Or as relaxed as he could be considering his state. Steve moved down, slowly after that, kissing along Bucky’s throat and his chest. He took some time when he got there, pinching and playing with Bucky’s nipples the same way he would have back in the old days. Bucky was responding, but not as much as Steve wanted—he was holding back. His face was red and flushed but he looked like he was uncomfortable. “Bucky?”

“I’m sorry,” Bucky whispered.

Steve came up and shook his head. “Don’t be sorry. Tell me what you want, or don’t want.”

“I want what you’re doing. I like it,” he nodded, his eyes filled with tears of frustration. “But without you kissing me it’s like, my head is so loud, and everything is too much.”

“Okay,” Steve murmured. “So we’ll work our way up to a blow job.” He grinned when Bucky flushed, further embarrassed and grabbed Steve’s face, kissing him roughly and turning them over.

Steve gave into it, figuring that the best way to make Bucky feel good was to give him control. They kissed lazily for what seemed like an eternity, just their tongues rolling around with each other, Bucky’s hands insistent as they spread themselves over Steve’s shoulders, his pecs, his hips, back up to his face. Bucky seemed like he couldn’t stop touching Steve. Steve felt the same, but he was a lot more careful and gentle with his touches, wary of Bucky’s triggers and attempting to respect his boundaries.

He laughed into Bucky’s mouth when Bucky, in annoyance, grabbed Steve’s hand and placed it on his ass. Steve could get behind that. He squeezed it playfully and pushed Bucky down against him, allowing their hips to align and have their groins grind against each other. Bucky’s entire body shook from it, and his lips broke away from Steve’s for a moment, his eyes bright and shining from the stimulation.

Steve whispered, “We can stop.”

Bucky shook his head. “No, don’t, I’m just…I remember doing stuff, but not the feeling. I’m just…”

“Overwhelmed?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you want me to get on top?”

“No,” Bucky said quickly, so fast that it broke Steve’s heart a little. “Just…tell me what to do? Or show me.”

“Okay,” Steve breathed, and he resumed kissing Bucky, moving their hips together slowly. They had all the time in the world after all.

Steve was always a pretty easy person to get going once the serum had become a part of him, but even before that, when he was just a small young man, he would never say no to Bucky. He was always in the mood. How could he not be, with Bucky always around, smiling and touching and laughing? Bucky was a drug, and Steve was addicted.

They kissed as long as they could, but soon, with every grind of their hips, Bucky lost more and more of himself. His hard on pressed against Steve’s desperately, their boxers in the way—and at one point, it became too much for Bucky. He reached down and quickly shoved their boxers down, not even looking as he grabbed their erections and jerked them off together with his hand. The friction was incredible, blowing Steve’s mind, he closed his eyes and did nothing but feel it, turning his face into Bucky’s hair, who had his face tucked in Steve’s neck, his arm working quickly to bring them to their release.

Bucky’s noises were beyond breathtaking. He used to be louder, said the _dirtiest_ things, but now, he was giving away soft little pants in Steve’s ear. Steve was biting down on his lip because he was so invested in those sounds, and didn’t want to be so loud that those sounds got away from them. When that intense, beautiful sensation kicked in and he knew he was close, he whispered right in Bucky’s ear: “I love you,”

Bucky groaned louder then, snapping his hips forward over and over again, seeking friction from Steve and his hand, moaning loudly as he tipped over the edge, bringing Steve with him in a mess of sweat and climaxes and messy kisses.

He collapsed on Steve for a moment, but Steve was happy to see that the serum effected them both the same way—they were still hard. Bucky was breathing harshly by Steve’s neck, and he mumbled into the skin, “Did it always…did it always feel like that?”

Steve asked, “Physically or emotionally?”

“Both.”

“Yes. Better. More, when we made love.”

“Wow,” Bucky breathed, making Steve chuckle lightly. “Soon.” He promised.

Steve smiled and kissed him again, softly but eagerly. They had to do it two more times before either of them were soft again.

* * *

 

When Bucky was taking a shower, Steve was preparing lunch for them, deciding that it was too late in the morning to have breakfast. Steve felt elated—Bucky, after all that had happened in the morning seemed much more relaxed, their conversation from previously apparently no longer on his mind.

Steve was falling into a very domestic life here, and he could so easily picture staying in this apartment, getting jobs and living his life with Bucky. It would be so easy, so simple, to just work on Bucky’s mind together, to come back every day to each other. To build a home.

But Steve could never really have everything he wanted so easily.

When he heard a small thud from the balcony he tensed immediately, getting low and rolling on the ground so he could grab his shield. He held it in front of him, peering over it and looking out the window to see who was there.

Steve frowned and put down his shield, rolling his eyes. He walked over to the balcony door and threw it open to a grinning Clint Barton.

“Howdy Cap,”

“Clint, what are you doing here?” Steve hissed, coming outside and closing the door behind him. Clint was dressed in his tactical gear, bow and arrows and all, which explained how he was able to get up to the balcony. He had an assortment of arrows that acted in many different ways. Hitting a target was not the only thing he used them for.

“I missed you.”

“Clint.”

“Fine,” he grinned. “We have a mission, and it’s all hands on deck.”

“I can’t go,” he sighed. “How did you even find me?”

“Please, Nat tells me everything.” He peered inside the window. “Where’s your boyfriend?”

Steve frowned at him. “Natasha should learn—”

Clint waved his hand in dismissal. “I saw you two making out in the park. I’ve been watching you for a couple of days, trying to pick a time to come and get you.”

Steve personally thought that the Avengers, as a whole, needed to learn the concept of personal space. But then, he would be a hypocrite if he ever told that to any of their faces. They were all dysfunctional and all relied on their team, and the few people they had outside them to keep them standing. Steve did the same.

“I can’t just leave,” Steve said. “Bucky can’t be alone.”

“The Winter Soldier,” Clint sighing, shaking his head at Steve sadly. “You sure do know how to pick them, huh Captain?”

“ _Clint_ ,”

“Cap, we have a HYDRA base. Not just a cat stuck in the tree or a grandma that needs help crossing the street. This is the big game, and we need all hands. Thor is with us, and he misses you.”

Steve frowned, because Clint knew that was an easy way to get to Steve. The thing about his relationship with Thor was that, although it was platonic in its nature, they understood each other on a different level than they did with the other Avengers. They were both soldiers, from different realms perhaps, but soldiers all the same. Each knew what it meant to have that kind of responsibility sit on their shoulders. Not to mention the fact that their fighting style was so different that it made them work together so well. Steve was a dancer—all grace and flexibility, jumps and kicks and twirls, a perfect ballet sequence. Thor was all brute force and energy, thunder and lightning and hammers. Together, combining their forces, they worked as well as brothers.

“I can’t just leave,” Steve said, stubborn as ever.

“Bring him with you.” Clint shrugged.

“I can’t.”

“So he killed Tony’s parents, it wasn’t him when he—”

“Jesus, Nat told you that too?” he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You two are worse than old ladies.”

“Don’t I know it.” Clint chuckled.

“Clint,” Steve said tiredly. “If Tony finds out, he won’t stand for it.”

Clint looked at Steve seriously. “We’ve all killed people. Mothers and fathers and brothers and sisters. Just because some of them were on the wrong side of the line, it doesn’t mean we didn’t do it. We’ve ripped apart families. It’s not just your boy who took someone’s parents away. You fought in a war remember?”

“Against the _Nazis_.”

Clint shrugged. “Doesn’t change what I mean. The shit that went down in New York? The innocents who got caught up in stuff that we did? We’ve all been there. Heck, Natasha and I should  _definitely_ be in jail for the shit we pulled. It’s different for you because this is Tony, but it’s time for everyone to stop licking their wounds and get to work.”

Steve stared at him. “You’re saying all of this as though he already knows.”

“He doesn’t, but he should. And you should tell him, before he finds out on his own.”

“How would he?”

“I don’t know, how does Tony do anything? His brain is fifty shades of genius, he can figure out anything he wants.” He crossed his arms. “So? You and your boy coming with?”

Steve sighed. “Come inside.”

Clint grinned, following him happily into the small apartment, closing the door behind him. On cue, Bucky stepped out of the bathroom, already dressed, a towel around his neck, with his hair swept away from his face. Upon seeing Clint, his open expression closed up and his eyes went to the knife on the counter. He grabbed it and held it in front of him, narrowing his eyes.

“Easy Bucky,” Steve said, holding up a hand. “He’s a friend. He’s not here to take me away.”

Clint frowned. “Well actually—”

Bucky practically _growled,_ “If you take him I will kill you.”

Clint grinned back. “I would love to see you try.”

“Alright,” Steve said, trying hard not to roll his eyes. Clint Barton was easily underestimated by everyone around him just because he didn’t have superpowers. But Steve knew better than anyone that Clint never let that stop him. He never missed a shot, he was just as smart as Nat was, and he had a good but also occasionally ruthless heart. He was quiet and dangerous as much as he was sarcastic. “Enough, both of you.” He sighed, walking over to Bucky. “Hey,” he put his hands on the side of Bucky’s face, turning it so Bucky was forced to look at Steve. “I need you to listen to me, okay?”

Bucky nodded slowly. “They want you back.”

“They need my help,” Steve corrected him. “But they want your help too.”

Bucky’s eyes widened, and he pulled himself back, shaking his head. “Steve, they’ll lock me away, I can’t go—”

“Actually,” Clint unzipped his vest and pulled out from the inside pocket a couple of pieces of paper that were folded. “Immunity.” He explained, throwing it on the island, Bucky’s eyes glued to it. “Fury got in contact with all the right people to have your name cleared. Brainwashing and all that. Natasha and I found enough evidence, from your files and the videotapes that HYDRA wasn’t smart enough to get rid of. As far as the government is concerned, if you sign the dotted line, The Winter Soldier and Bucky Barnes are two separate people. The public doesn’t have to know a damn thing.”

Bucky glared at him. “And the Avengers?” Which really meant, _and Tony?_

Clint shrugged. “The Avengers will do what they always do.”

“And what’s that?”

“Deal with whatever life throws at them.”

Bucky scoffed. “I am just supposed to believe it is that easy.”

“Sometimes life _is_ that easy.” Clint crossed his arms, looking smug. “We found a HYDRA base, and we need Steve’s help. We’re offering you a chance to be a part of something greater than yourself. Take it and it’s yours. Take it and redeem yourself. Take it and help us take down the thing that you hate.”

“And be an Avenger? And just pretend that everything is completely okay?”

Clint, who had known battles and assassinations all his life, said seriously, “Nothing will ever be completely okay, but we can still try and be better.”

Bucky frowned at him but did not respond, and instead turned his gaze to Steve. “Do you want to go?”

Steve shook his head. “I want to stay with you, here forever. But they need my help. The world needs my help.”

Bucky nodded slowly. “You were always the good guy Stevie,” he murmured.

“Hey,” Steve frowned, kissing Bucky’s forehead tenderly. “So were you. It’s not your fault, what happened, okay?” he held Bucky’s face again, his eyes were looking tired and worn, like he was slipping away more and more from the good mood he was in this morning now that he had to deal with the outside world. Now that they would have to leave the confinements of this safe haven they had made for themselves. “Come with me. Fight with me.”

Bucky exhaled shakily, wrapping his hands around Steve’s wrists. “Okay,” he whispered. “But no more dying.”

“No more dying,” Steve promised. He kissed Bucky’s forehead softly, before looking over at Clint, who was holding Steve’s shield out to him.

Clint’s eyes were shining in triumph. “Ready Captain?”

Steve held out his hand and took the shield, nodding. “Ready.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey everyone! i hope you all liked this chapter!!
> 
> so obviously this is going into pre-age of ultron territory. it will dip a little into the beginning of the movie, but the main focus will still be on steve and bucky as there is still a lot i want to cover with them! 
> 
> i hope you all enjoyed this chapter, and the touch of angst that came with it. there is some more coming, and some more violence, and some more love, and some more fights. please leave me a comment, as they are my favourite thing about updating!! xx


	8. equals

The problem was, when Steve didn't have Bucky to focus on, the reality of his own mind and problems set in. 

Hawkeye informed him that there was too much info for Steve to just read up on in a file, so they were going home to New York before they were making way for Sokovia. Steve thought this was a waste of time, but Clint rightly pointed out that Bucky should get comfortable with the team before they all decided to raid a HYDRA base. Clint had told Steve, in that knowing, sweet voice of his, "Hydra ain't going anywhere Steve,", but that wasn't enough for Steve. Bucky was one of the few who understood the terror that was HYDRA. Unfortunately, it meant a couple of hours on the quinjet with nothing to do but listen to his own thoughts, which was not something Steve was okay with. Even when Bucky's silence lasted for days, it was enough to keep him occupied. 

Now though, in the air, with his suit holding a seat across him, he felt his mind began to be overcome. 

Steve was very good at hiding his depression, and his PTSD. Very good. But Bucky had known him too long, and Clint was surprisingly good at reading people. That was the beauty of him, he was so often underestimated that he often got the jump on people. 

"It's okay," Clint waved his hands away when Steve tried to reach for the controls. Clint had his eyes on the sky, looking relaxed and controlled. "I got this. Go be with your boy."

Steve didn't bother correcting him, there was nothing to correct, and Clint would not have believed him even if he had. Steve sighed and thanked him under his breath, signing it against his chest. Clint winked at him and tapped his forehead before saluting Steve. Clint's hearing aids were given an upgrade thanks to Tony (really, there was not much to improve, but Tony liked to be helpful), but Steve still liked to use ASL every once and a while, whether Clint was wearing them or not. Clint indulged him, and Steve was grateful for that too. He grew up partially deaf, and after spending seventy years under the ice, it was important to him to continue with certain things even if it wasn't necessary specifically to him anymore.

And oddly, signing with Clint often made him feel more stable inside of his body. A bit of his own past twined with his present. 

Bucky wasn't strapped into the seat. He was dressed in his Winter Soldier gear, looking as uncomfortable as ever. Steve had told him to dress in civilian clothes, but Bucky refused, and left no room for argument. Steve understood it, he wouldn't want to go into what he considered enemy lines without his suit and protection. He was pacing, and turned in Steve's direction when he heard him approaching. 

"Are you okay?" Steve asked, aching and aching to touch him. 

Bucky looked him dead in the eye, and if he was hurting, he didn't let it show. Steve wished he could crawl inside of Bucky's mind and figure out what he was thinking at this particular moment. "Are you?" Bucky asked seriously. 

Steve smiled his winning smile, "I'm fine Buck,"

"Are we lying to each other now?" Bucky asked. 

"Just a bad day, that's all."

"I thought this was what you wanted." Bucky murmured, and his voice dropped just a touch, giving himself away. He felt betrayed, and that was Steve's fault, like everything else. 

Steve sighed tiredly, "I know you're not okay with this-"

"Stop telling me what I feel," Bucky hissed, pushing past him, their shoulders bumping. "That's all you've done."

"Don't," Steve fought back half-heartedly. "Not now. Don't twist this on me. You're the one who told me you love me."

Bucky turned around and glared at him. "Don't use that as a weapon against me." He snapped, a snarl ripping through his harsh words. He shook his head, running his hands through his hair and then shook his head, his nails scraping his scalp a little too harshly for Steve's liking. "I'm sorry," he whispered, moving closer to Steve, hesitant.

Steve shook his head. "You don't have to be."

"I am. I should be. I'm just, I don't want to go, but I'm going for you, and I don't know what that makes me."

"It makes you my best guy," Steve cooed, feeling a little lighter as he grabbed Bucky's hand and pulled him closer. "That good with you pal?"

Bucky snorted lightly, rolling his eyes, but his lips quirked up a little and Steve knew that he had him. "Hey," Bucky said, pulling Steve closer to him, sighing against his neck. He was shaking against him lightly, and Steve wondered if Bucky was battling himself in his head right now, shifting between The Winter Soldier that was pulling at him, and the Bucky he was, and the Bucky he was trying to be. Steve wondered if shifting that quickly was possible. Either way, Steve would be there for him. 

"Hi," Steve sighed, pressing his cheek by Bucky's head, his arms curling around Bucky's body.

"What's wrong sweetheart?" Bucky whispered into Steve's neck, and somehow it made the whole thing more intimate, whispering to his skin, like they used to do when they were teens and cuddling in bed. 

"Being with you outside of the US, away from the things I'm supposed to know and like, I felt not better but  _good_." 

Bucky pulled back and stared at him curiously. "Feel better about what?" Then, because they knew each other so well, and because Steve's facial expression crumpled under the weight of Bucky's gaze. "You're sad," he whispered. 

"I'm fine pal,"

"You're not," Bucky said, shaking his head. "Going back is making you sad. Is it them? Is it the Avengers?" he growled, and his eyes turned almost black, Steve being sad giving him a reason to turn his hatred into something productive. "I'll-"

"Relax Buck, it's not...I love them. Just, not like I love you. And being with you, being able to take care of you-"

"I'm not a fucking charity case."

"No, you're the love of my life," Steve said plainly, making Bucky's eyes go soft. "And being with you these last days, I've felt...whole. I'm afraid...I want to go back and see them, but another part of me wants to ignore everything and everyone and take you and just..."

"Be okay," Bucky mumbled under his breath. 

"Yeah,"

Bucky looked heartbroken. "I can't even help myself properly, Steve, I don't know how to help you."

"I'm just babbling is all," Steve promised, putting on his smile. He knew Bucky saw through it, but he couldn't do much else besides that. “Being a veteran of war, sure does have perks, huh Buck?”

Bucky snorted. “Shut up.”

* * *

 

As it turned out, when they got back to the Stark Tower, no one was actually there but Pepper. Steve greeted her with as much as a smile as he could at the time, and apologized under his breath for Bucky ignoring her. She explained quickly that Tony was actually out for a charity event, and he, as well as the Avengers, would be there the following day. Clint saluted Steve and ignored Bucky, the same way Bucky was ignoring him before he made off to the guest bedroom that Steve knew he shared with Natasha. Something about them trusting no one but each other to have their backs.

Pepper bid them a good evening, saying she was going to go be with Tony for the second half of the event and smiled kindly at Steve. That was hours ago—when Steve had quietly asked Bucky if he wanted his own room, or if he wanted to share. Bucky rolled his eyes at Steve’s stupidity and followed him into the bedroom. They had made out lazily like teenagers for a long while, discarding their shirts in the process, but nothing more came of it. That was okay, Steve didn’t mind. What mattered to him was being next to the person he loved the most in the world.

They were sitting against the headboard, Steve twisted slightly to his side, his legs over Bucky’s, his hands trailing over Bucky’s chest, up to this neck, to his shoulders and back down again. He drew patterns into the skin of the man he loved so much, smiling the whole time. He was pleasantly sleepy, not quite enough to actually want to go to bed, but enough that he knew he would sleep well tonight.

“Do you still draw?” Bucky asked, breaking the silence. Only one lamp was on in the room, illuminating the room that Steve had not put a lot of thought into. It wasn’t home. He was a guest in Tony’s house. But now, with Bucky next to him in bed, Steve did feel more at home than he had in a long time.

“Sometimes,” Steve murmured. “Not much.”

“How come?”

“I didn’t have my favourite model.”

Bucky chuckled softly under his breath. “Do you still have those pictures?”

“Yeah, I’ll show you sometime, if you’re good. I have them back in my apartment.”

“In D.C…” Bucky swallowed. “Why there? Why didn’t you go back to Brooklyn?”

Steve shrugged even though he spoke, “You weren’t there. It wasn’t home without you.”

Bucky sighed. “You know, we talk an awful lot about how I feel, but you haven’t said much about how you feel.”

“I always say how I feel.”

“No, you don’t.” Bucky looked at him seriously, putting his hand over Steve’s, keeping it over his heart. “You know I can’t stand being here, but tell me, really tell me what’s going on with you.”

“I don’t want to—”

“Trigger me?” Bucky laughed bitterly. “Steve, I’m always going to be a fucking mess pal. But I can’t…I can’t be with you if it’s not equal. For fuck’s sake ,it’s already not equal and I don’t want to fucking take more time up than you do.”

Steve sighed and kissed Bucky’s shoulder where skin met metal. “Being with you—”

“I can’t make it better.”

“I know, but…I think less. Before that, it was bad dreams all the time, it was…Jesus, the way I would throw myself into fights, it was just to give myself something to do. I know how to fight, I know how to punch my way through anything. But before, and in between the fights, it’s just terrible. Nightmares weren’t even the worst part. I would lose myself during the day too, lose whole periods of time.”

“I get that too.” Bucky admitted. “But more because…my mind breaks sometimes, between who I was, who I am, who I want to be. Who you want me to be.”

“I want you to be you.”

“Except fixed.”

“I want you to be _okay_.” Steve stressed. “I don’t think people like you and I can be fixed. But we can be okay. I can help you be okay.”

“And do I get to help you? See how easily we end up back here?”

Steve sighed, agitated. “What don’t you understand Buck? You _do_ help. It might be totally ridiculous, and co-dependent, but being with you, feeling you right here…” he slipped his hand away from Bucky’s heart and up to his face, cradling it. “It helps.”  
“When this is over,” Bucky whispered, closing his eyes, leaning into Steve’s touch. Steve’s heart melted at the sight of it. “I want…”

“What?” Steve whispered.

“I want to go home.” He murmured. “Please.”

Steve nodded. “We will. We will.” He moved forward and their foreheads touched. “We’ll get you a new arm, we’ll move to Brooklyn, get someone to talk to, and I’ll even draw you all over again.” He kissed Bucky’s nose, feeling perfectly at peace with himself.

“Steve,” Bucky whispered brokenly. “You gotta…you gotta help me, okay? Tomorrow, I might…when we go into battle, I might become too much of _him_ instead of this person.”

“You got it,” Steve promised him, but instead of hugging Bucky, Bucky was the one who pulled Steve close to him, desperate for that touch. Steve curled up to him, it was a bit awkward considering his new height, but they made it work. Neither of them minded much, perfectly content with sitting as close as they possibly could for each other.

“I don’t want to go back.” Bucky whispered into his hair.

“You won’t.” Steve promised, and he kissed Bucky’s chest, right over his heart. Steve wouldn’t let that happen.

He would die first.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im sorry for both the delay and the shortness of this chapter! ive been dealing with a lot of family issues, and personal issues so i did my best considering
> 
> next chapter will be longer, because we are meeting the avengers and the age of ultron storyline comes into play!! i will obviously not be going into the entire movie, and a lot will be changing--tony of course, still has to find out what bucky did
> 
> drama is coming
> 
> drop me a comment if you liked the fluff! sorry again for the shortness, not my best chapter, but i am exhausted lol


	9. nightmares

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trigger warning: self harm

This time, it was Steve who woke up with a nightmare.

He dreamt of New York, except Bucky was there, and Bucky who had always fought people, had no idea how he was supposed to fight aliens. They had done their best, but just like it was on the train, Steve had to watch him die. Except the dream replayed itself over and over again, going from the war, to New York, Steve watching Bucky fall.

And fall.

And fall.

And fall.

He woke up in a sweat, a silent scream caught in his throat, turning into a choking sound as he tried to find his grounding, but it felt impossible. He sat up, his chest heaving, panicking when he realized that Bucky was not next to him on the bed. He looked around, fear taking a hold of his heart before momentarily settling when he saw Bucky in the corner of the room, his metal hand over his mouth and nose and a knife in his flesh hand.

Steve stumbled out of bed, almost tripping over himself, wiping sweat from his brow as he slapped the light open so he could see Bucky better, walking over to him and collapsing on the ground in front of him. “Buck?” he asked, his eyes frantic, looking over Bucky worriedly, searching for injuries. “Are you okay?”

Bucky’s dark eyes snapped to Steve. He looked as he did that day on the hellicarrier, when Steve had told him he would never leave him, when he was bloody and beaten underneath him. Bucky’s eyes had gone wide in fear, in confusion, because The Winter Soldier wanted to understand who this man was, and it had made him pause. It was when his brain started to fight even harder, when Bucky started to try to come back to himself.

That was when Steve finally saw the blood.

There wasn’t a lot, thankfully, but there was enough. It ran from the inside of his forearm to his wrist, but the wound itself wasn’t particularly deep. Steve met Bucky’s eyes, and put his hand over Bucky’s, the one that was covering his mouth. Acting like a mask.

God, Steve was so tired.

“Hey pal,” Steve murmured lightly, doing his best to smile. “I need you to listen to me okay? I need you to take your hand out, you are going to suffocate yourself.”

Bucky’s eyes, full of fear darted all over Steve’s face. He had no idea what had triggered Bucky to go into this state of mind, or if perhaps this was just something that would happen for some time. Maybe it wasn’t about trying to get rid of the soldier. Maybe it was about learning to live with all the broken pieces from all the different sides of Bucky, and learning how to put them all together, so he could be okay and live as he was now. But this, the whole thing, was too much for Steve. They needed help. A therapist. Steve didn’t know how to help. He could clean Bucky up, take care of him, but that was all.

Bucky still didn’t move, so Steve lifted his other hand to follow and gently tugged, showing Bucky he wanted it off. “Come on Buck, come on. For me, okay?”

Bucky’s eyes still seemed like they were in fight or flight mode, but he slowly loosened the grip he had on himself, and Steve’s heart ached when he watched Bucky suck in air haphazardly—he had been clamping down hard on himself.

“Good job,” Steve murmured. “Now drop the knife.”

Bucky struggled a little more with that, looking down at his wound, the blood and the knife. His eyes seemed like they were doing their best to focus. He sputtered out, “Steve…” he shook his head. “I don’t…I don’t remember doing this.” His eyes found Steve and he dropped the knife, the sound of it hitting the floor enough to make them both flinch, and Bucky curled into himself, wrapping his arms around his legs. “It was an accident,” he murmured. “Please don’t punish me. Please, please, please.”

“Jesus Bucky,” Steve whimpered, putting his hands on Bucky’s face, ignoring the flash in his eyes—he was scared he was going to be hurt. “I will never hurt you, okay?”

“The asset is injured—”

“James Buchanan Barnes.” Steve interrupted him. “Bucky. Buck. Those are your names. You’re not an asset, you’re not a weapon.”

Bucky stared at him with wide eyes, seeming uncertain, like he was ready to argue with Steve but his mouth set in a firm line and he nodded, but Steve didn’t take his silence to mean that he was suddenly okay. He took it to mean that Bucky was trying his best, and really, that was all he could do. He wouldn’t ask what happened, Bucky already told him he couldn’t remember, which means he had a nightmare, dissociated, and did exactly what he told Steve he used to do when he was in HYDRA. He hurt himself to try and come back to himself, to separate himself from who HYDRA wanted him to be.

“Okay,” Steve sighed. “Why don’t you go shower, huh? Get cleaned up.”

Bucky nodded slowly, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize.”

“You had a bad dream too. I saw you wake up—”

“I’m fine Buck,” Steve put on his winner smile, hiding all his pain away. After all, it was what he did best.

 

They were on their way to meet up with the other Avengers on the main floor of Tony’s tower, but before they turned the corner to the voices that were so familiar to Steve now, Bucky grabbed his hand. His hair was down, and he was dressed in his tactical pants, and a tight black t-shirt. Half-dressed for a mission. That’s what this was to Bucky, meeting the Avengers was part of a mission.

“What’s wrong?” Steve asked.

Bucky swallowed. “I’m trying,” he told Steve frantically. “I’m doing my best.”

Steve smiled sadly, curling Bucky’s hair around his ear. “I know you are. It’s okay. You’re just having a bad day.”

Bucky nodded, seeming grateful for the understanding. Then they turned the corner, ready to meet the Avengers. Steve’s heart swelled a bit like it always did, grateful that even in this new life he had managed to find himself a family.

Tony Stark was standing in the middle, as he always did, everywhere. He demanded attention, sometimes by asking for it, but really, it was just the way he held himself. He was not someone to stand in the background. Years of neglect had forced him to take the spotlight into his own hands. He was loud, unapologetic, and above all else, misunderstood. Next to Tony was Natasha and Clint, who were already whispering low to each other, Clint’s eyes on Bucky, his eyes humorous. He signed hello to Steve, and Steve signed it back, nodding at Natasha who winked at him. On Tony’s other side was Bruce Banner, shorter than the rest of them, his black curly hair messy. He was dressed in a suit that did not fit him as well as Tony’s suit fit him.

Thor was the only one dressed for the mission, apparently assuming they were leaving right away. He wore his standard armor and cape, his long hair framing his face, some of it pulled back into a loose braid. His eyes had landed on Steve and he gave him a massive smile. Steve couldn’t help it, he smiled back. Thor had a special place in his heart, they all did, in their own ways, but Thor understood the wars of Steve’s past the same way Bucky did. Soldiers always had an easier time relating to one another.

“Cap,” Tony saluted him.

“Hey Tony,” Steve nodded. He wanted to go up to them, to greet them, but he stood by Bucky. He grabbed Bucky’s hand, who seemed grateful, as he squeezed back hard enough that, if Steve had been small, he probably would have broken some bones. They walked towards the group, and before Steve shook anyone’s hands, he put his hand on Bucky’s chest. “This is Bucky.” Bucky was silent, so Steve continued, “Bucky, that’s Tony Stark, Clint who you met, Natasha—”

Natasha smiled. “We’ve also met.”

Bucky’s eyes flashed—he almost grinned. Steve continued, “Dr. Bruce Banner, and that’s Thor. He’s a God.” Bucky looked at him incredulously, but Steve just shrugged.

Bucky swallowed. “Stark.”

Tony waved his hand. “You knew my dad, yeah, we’ve been over it. Welcome to the Tower, you’re welcome for the best sleep of your life.” He walked over to them, disregarding Bucky to shake Steve’s hand. But they weren’t stupid. They had all seen the fresh wound on Bucky’s arm, all saw the tension in his shoulders. Tony was not touching Bucky, because he knew that right now, the only person who was okay to touch Bucky was Steve.

Steve and Tony shook hands, and that was enough for the ice to break. Thor set down his hammer and walked up to Steve, taking him into his arms and hugging him tight. “I have missed you, my friend.”

“I missed you too Thor.” Steve smiled, feeling a little more at ease. When they parted, Thor looked over at Bucky. “This is my—”

“Your lover!” Thor exclaimed happily. “I have heard!” Bucky tensed considerably, but Thor laid a huge hand down on Bucky’s shoulder, like they had been friends as long as Steve and Bucky themselves. “The human world is a mess,” he advised him wisely. “On Asgard, we encourage our people to love who they want. To drink, to fuck—” Steve blushed madly.

“ _Thor._ ”

“What?”

But Bucky was grinning, a tiny, small smile. “Asgard sounds nice.” He cleared his throat, moving closer to Steve, understanding now that the team didn’t care that they were together. “So, you’re a God?”

“The God of Thunder,” Thor said proudly.

Steve pointed at Bruce. “Dr. Banner has…sort of an alternate personality.”

Bruce Banner walked up to them, fidgeting with his hands as he so often did, nodding at them. “You’ll see him later. It’s the only party trick I have.”

Natasha clapped her hands, demanding attention, and they followed her to the round table, all taking spots on the couches where there were files scattered around. “Play time is over, let’s strategize.”

Steve was overwhelmed with the feeling of being exhausted, but he brought Bucky to the table and sat with him. Bucky didn’t talk much about the mission, but he listened, intent, looking at the pictures of the HYDRA base, listening to them all talk about how they were going to take it down. They were excited, the whole team, to get together and take down a base. Thor and Tony were more than confident in their ability to pull off the mission without a hitch, but Steve knew that HYDRA always had something up their sleeve.

“I want them gone.” Steve said during the conversation. “I want to find every base and take them out.”

Bucky looked over at him, finally speaking. “So is this a mission for the Avengers, or a mission for you?” he asked, and because Steve knew him so well, he heard the words Bucky was not saying. What Bucky was really asking was, _are you still looking for revenge?_

Steve was honest. “They’re bad people.”

“So was I.” Bucky reminded him. He moved forward, and tapped his index finger on the photo of the base. “There are rumors about two enhanced people in there. They call them mutants.” He looked at Steve, sharing a significant look with him.

Once upon a time, in the war, Steve and Bucky had met someone that had changed their life. His name was Logan, and he was easily the scariest person they had ever met in their life. From the outside, he seemed like a normal guy, until he was in a fight. Like Steve, he didn’t get tired. His strength was impeccable, and he was faster than most people. More importantly, were the three long bone claws that came out from his hands.

He was an excellent fighter, dangerous, but amazing. Logan called himself a mutant, someone whose genes were enhanced in the body to give him powers. He wasn’t effected by a gamma ray, he wasn’t experimented on. He just _was._

Steve sighed tiredly. “Mutants change everything.”

Tony pinched the bridge of his nose. The whole world had heard of mutants, and most of the world hated them. The Avengers were mostly human, but mutants were different enough for people to find a new group of people to hate, no matter how good they were. Yet, they kept fighting for people.

Tony asked, “Do we know what kind of mutants?”

Bucky couldn’t look Tony directly in the eyes. “I know one of them is fast, but there are more whispers about the other one. They call her a witch.”

“Like burn her in the city center, witch?”

“Basically. Real magic.”

“Fantastic,” Tony stated blandly. “So we’re fighting Harry Potter.”

Bucky clearly didn’t understand the reference, but Clint and Natasha snickered. Thor moved closer to the files, closer to Bucky, sensitive to the emotions of soldiers in a way others were not. “Is there anything else you can tell us?”

Bucky shook his head. “I know they’re young. They might not have chosen the life. Maybe they did, I don’t know. Either way, they’re probably being locked up like animals. Cages, cells, whatever. HYDRA wouldn’t treat mutants like people, they’d treat them…like they treated me.”

Steve nodded. “We can take them in, question them.”

Bruce ran his thumb along his bottom lip. “Psychological evaluation.” He sighed tiredly. “So we have to take down a base, save some kids, and look for Loki’s scepter.”

Natasha smiled. “Sounds fun.”

Clint smiled alongside her. “Just another day in the life.”

* * *

 

They were leaving in a couple of hours, so Bucky and Steve had retreated to their rooms to get ready. Steve was naked now, about to get dressed in his suit, but suddenly he felt hands on his hips. Bucky kissed the back of his neck, but he felt him shake a little. Steve sighed, his hands going over to touch Bucky, sighing.

“I’m tired of fighting,” Bucky whispered.

“I know,” Steve said, his heart breaking. “You don’t…you don’t have to come…”

“Right. Like I’m going to let you go alone.”

Steve smiled softly. “Everything will be okay.”

“I know,” Bucky whispered, but the shake in his voice suggested that he was still scared of being separated from Steve again. Steve couldn’t blame him, he felt the same way. “You had a bad dream.” He whispered against Steve’s skin. “So did I. I want to forget. I want you to feel good before we go to war.”

“We’re not in a war.”

“Yes we are,” Bucky murmured solemnly. “We never left the war.”

Steve sighed and turned his head enough so that they could kiss. It felt like a great relief to have their lips against each other, their tongues swiping over each other’s, hot and heavy, desperate for touch after they had spent the whole morning tense and around people. Steve wasn’t sure whether or not this was a good or bad idea, but he was too far gone, too tired to care. He kissed and kissed until he felt numb all over.

“Can you bend over?” Bucky asked.

Steve nodded, laying down on the bed on his stomach, his legs half on and half off it. Bucky kissed down his spine, and Steve didn’t have to ask what he was doing. He just lay there and allowed himself to feel, focused only on the feel of Bucky’s lips on his, the graze of his growing beard, the way his hair tickled his skin. His mouth moved lower and lower, until it was finally where Steve _ached_ for it to be. Bucky began to lick him in earnest, and Steve gave himself over to pleasure, losing himself to the feeling. He moaned, he didn’t care who heard, and pushed back against Bucky, while at the same time trying to grind down against the bed. It went on and on for ages, heat spreading over Steve’s body as he climbed higher for a release. God, he wanted Bucky inside him so badly, but for now, this would do. Bucky’s tongue had always worked magic on Steve, and now was no different. He was eager and hungry for Steve in the same way Steve was hungry for him. The fear of the upcoming fight was spurring them on, making them need each other.

When Steve came, he slipped off the bed, and took Bucky in his mouth, lazily, but enthusiastically. Bucky gave himself over, fucking himself into Steve’s mouth. It was quick, quicker than Steve thought the whole thing would be, but he didn’t mind. Having Bucky in his mouth made his mind go blissfully, utterly blank. Bucky coming in his mouth was even better, he ate up Bucky’s moans, committing the whole thing to memory.

When it was over and done and they had washed each other up, they stood naked in each other’s arms, holding each other close. Bucky whispered in the crook of his neck, “Don’t die on me.”

Steve whispered back, “Right back at you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you all for reading :) keep the comments coming! they keep me going xx


	10. the end

Hey everyone, 

I am dealing with a lot right now--there has been a death in my family, and between the stress of therapy, the medications that are not working and the complete lack of inspiration, I do not have it in me to finish this. But, here is a summary of how it was going to end, so none of you are left in the dark of it. Thank you all for your amazing and supportive comments. Here is the end:

Before they would go to Sokovia, Steve and Bucky were finally going to sleep together, and address their fears of what was going to happen to both of them, and Steve was going to admit that he needs more help than he realizes, but he could not do this until whatever this was with HYDRA was settled. They were going to leave for Sokovia the following day, and it would basically happen like in the film, up to the party, expect with Bucky involved. They were going to slow dance at the party, and Bucky and Thor were going to have a surprising conversation, in which Thor explains to Bucky, that if he is staying around, then he has to be ready for this life that Steve chose. Bucky admits that he doesn't know if he can keep fighting and Thor advises him to get better, make a decision, and try and get Steve out. Because although Steve chose the fight, Thor doesn't want him there. His final line to Bucky in that scene is, "Steve chose to die a long time ago, and to be brought back to keep fighting wars is less than he deserves." 

After that, Ultron appears, and it is revealed that he hacked JARVIS, and JARVIS, in fact, knew (because hello, best piece of technology), about what happened to Tony's parents. So everything comes out in the open, and after Ultron is taken down in the tower, Bucky and Tony and Steve have it out--and it is Thor and Hawkeye who stop the fight. Hawkeye because he is the most understanding when it comes to these things, and Thor because, let's be honest, he is the strongest of them. Tony and Steve have a very long talk, with Thor present, about what Bucky has gone through, and that Tony has to understand, whether he likes it or not, that Bucky is a victim. Tony accepts it, but is still angry, and needs a middle ground--they have to take down Ultron, but cannot work with Bucky for the time being. 

That is where Bruce comes in. He and Natasha have done some research, and he digs into the name he stumbled across (Wakanda), and after some extensive research (in which Nat had to help, because Wakanda is a very secretive place), they realize that they can find Bucky the help he needs there. Bucky agrees, he and Steve have one last night together, and Steve, Clint, and Thor escort Bucky to Wakanda to be in the care of Shuri.

It ends like that and the last chapter opens in an epilogue, in which Steve goes to Wakanda, to pick up Bucky. When he arrives, Bucky has opted for not getting a new arm for the time being, even though it is ready for him. They have beautiful reunion sex, Steve informs him of what happened with Ultron, the new recruits, and that he has started to go see a therapist. Bucky and him decide to move to Brooklyn together, on the same street they used to live, and the story ends with Steve painted a picture of Bucky who, for the first time in a very long time, is perfectly, and utterly happy. 


End file.
